


Lock and Key

by AstridEquinox



Series: Dream Team Oneshots [6]
Category: Awesamdude - Fandom, DreamWasTaken - Fandom, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Sapnap - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, tommyinnit - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Blood, Bugs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Entomophobia, George is addicted to Dream, George is broken, Hallucinations, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Mention of guns, Rating Might Change, Roses, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Toxic Relationship, a bad one, blood and roses, blood relating to mud, conflicting thoughts, don't know if there will be a happy ending yet, dream is in the prison, dtao3, fear of bugs, like a drug, mention of bullets, no beta we die like Mexican dream, not proof-read, tags will change, thorns, voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstridEquinox/pseuds/AstridEquinox
Summary: Dream is a terrible man. He is a liar and a manipulator, and George knows that it is good that he is locked away, yet he can't help but feel conflicted about the whole thing. Dream was someone that he went to when he needed help, someone that he loved, and he can't let go of that so easily. He needs answers.When George visits Dream to try and find out the truth, will there be a chance for reconciliation, or will Dream push him away just like everyone else?
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Series: Dream Team Oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895725
Comments: 30
Kudos: 138
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was numb. It felt like nothing was real— that the mess they were stuck in was just a fever dream. 

The man that George once thought he knew had left him. The man that he had fallen in love with had turned out to be a fraud. The one that he would give up _everything_ for had in turn ruined him, yet George only found himself wanting more. 

Dream was locked away — locked away in the prison that he himself had built to contain his worst enemies — yet George questioned if he even belonged there. Dream was a monster, he knew that much was true, but he was also an Angel. He was the shield that protected George from the rest of the world, the man that stood by him during his reign as king, the god that made sure the world was perfect, and yet…

He was the thing that caused George to hate himself. 

He was the prison, the being that made sure George had nowhere else to go. His sweet words were laced with venom, the compassion and kindness he shared was all an act, and George was simply a part of the show. 

Everything that Dream did, he did for a reason. He was always one step ahead of everyone else, having plans before anyone knew what his motives were, and even when they thought they did, he was always unclear. 

Now, George looked back on the moments that he shared with that man. He didn’t even know if he could call him a man anymore. Dream was cold and unrelenting. He had walls that refused to come down. Even when he was locked away, George didn’t know if he could trust him. He didn’t know who Dream was. He wasn’t sure if he had ever known him. 

Everything that Dream was kept George tethered to him. His fingers were chains, his eyes were watchtowers, his mind was security, and his heart—

His _heart_.

His heart was the key to loving himself. His heart was the solution to all the self-hatred George harbored, the problems that he would always confide in Dream with. For a moment, those fingers felt like anchors, his piercing gaze as sharp as a dagger, his mind-controlling the ship, and his heart— the heart that George didn’t know if he could trust— was a sunset. 

His heart was the glow of the sun as they would watch it together, the rays that would bathe both of them in a golden hue. George remembered how his freckles would pop, how they looked like constellations on Dream’s smooth skin. He remembered how he would recoil deeper into Dream’s hoodie, wanting to be hidden from the spotlight. He remembered how Dream would look at him, mask gone, only for him. He would flash George a sad smile, reaching over to caress his cheek, and whisper the same words that he had heard over and over again.

“Don’t hide yourself. You’re beautiful. Everything I do, I do for you. The world will see that one day.”

George knew what he was doing. He didn’t know back then, but he knew now. The sweet words that Dream spewed would numb his pain, even if only for a moment. They kept him coming back for more. He was addicted to the praise that he would receive, the _love_ that the two of them had, yet he never felt better in the end. He would look at himself in the mirror the next day, or even in the blade of his sword, and hate himself more and more. He hadn’t understood it, had gone to Dream sobbing about how nothing was getting better, and Dream had held him. Dream had been his lifeline, the man that he went to when he had nobody else, and he reassured George that he would always be there. He suggested that George rely on him more often and George had done so, clinging to the hope that he would be fixed. 

It didn’t work. He should have seen that back then. He was still broken, shattered like glass, and now it was even harder to meld the pieces back together. Dream made George hate himself so that he could love him, and it had worked so well that George didn’t know who he was anymore. 

He had been resisting the urge to go back to Dream, to apologize for everything that he had done in the past, to find a way to take away his pain and suffer for him—

Because as much as he knew it was wrong, there was a part of him that thought _he_ did this, and he was the one to be blamed for Dream’s mistakes. 

It was toxic to go back to Dream, it always had been, but George needed closure. 

He needed to go back and ask the questions that he never had the courage to. 

He needed Dream to tell him— tell him honestly what he was to him. He needed to talk to the man that was hidden underneath the thick walls of his fortress. He needed to talk to him without hesitation, without manipulation, and without sympathy. 

He had to put all that aside. 

He needed to know the truth. 

George took a deep breath before walking into the entrance of the prison, being met with the cold eyes of the warden. 

It was now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, there was the first chapter! I hope that you all enjoyed! I had this idea when I was watching my younger sister, and I wrote this first chapter on my phone. It took me double the time that it normally would when I write on the computer, but I think that this chapter is good nonetheless. I hope that you guys enjoy!
> 
> Leave me a comment letting me know what you think! I am always down to hear constructive criticism! 
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Astrid <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George meets up with Dream, but will he be able to get the answers that he needs?

“Face forward,” Sam ordered, showing no sympathy towards George’s worried expression. George supposed that Sam understood his nervousness, but he certainly didn’t seem to care. It was only natural that he would be nervous, anyway. He didn’t know what to expect.

The lava took forever to drain. It felt like watching paint dry, but George knew that Dream was a threat. He had to be kept locked away from the rest of the world, or else he would leave pain and suffering wherever he went. There was no winning with Dream, that much was clear. Keeping the beast behind bars was the only way that everyone else could be happy.

When the lava had depleted enough for George to see through it, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Dream was quite literally surrounded by the liquid, unable to escape without killing himself in the process. George did not doubt that Dream perhaps did that as a pastime. He didn’t know what was going on inside of his head, but he knew that Dream was unstable. 

George knew that his true colors would show. He had been in the prison for around a week now, and he had apparently been mumbling things that were on the brink of insanity. 

“Never trust a manic man,” Dream had told him, “you don’t know what he might do.”

George didn’t know if that advice was ever true. 

When Dream lifted his head, George felt himself instantly recoil. His mask had been stolen from him and he was left in his raggedy hoodie, smudged with dirt and ripped from wear. His expression was unreadable as always, or at least it was the same as normal. Dream looked venomous — poised to kill anyone that was within an arm’s length — and George knew that wasn’t going to change because he was here. 

“You’re going to have to walk across the moving bridge,” Sam warned him, hand on the lever that would send it off. “And when you go over there, the lava will drop down again. There will be a divider between you and the prisoner, and that will drop once you are fully encased. Holler for me if there is trouble or when you want to be let out.”

George glanced back to look at Sam, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression. It was hard to tell from beneath the creeper mask, the cold eyes watching his every move. George took that as his cue to turn back around, staring at the man that he once loved.

The bridge began to move, and George walked with it. 

He was getting increasingly closer to the man that he knew— the one that he saw change over time. He supposed that he didn’t even know the true Dream, did he? It could have all been an act from the start. Their love could have been faked. George didn’t know what Dream’s motives were, but then again, nobody did. He supposed that he was just another pawn in Dream’s game, put on pause while he was locked away.

The god was no more. He was useless, reduced to this. There was no escape from his own thoughts, his own regrets. Did Dream even have regrets? George didn’t think so. He seemed like he had been proud of everything that he had done so far, and according to Tommy, he had only apologized when he was going to be put in prison. 

George didn’t need an apology, he needed a genuine answer. 

Why?

George felt his feet hit the solid ground of the obsidian, glancing back over his shoulder towards Sam. The pistons moved in front of him, separating Dream from him. George kept his eyes trained on the warden, not ready to gaze at Dream just yet.

“I’m sending the lava down now!” Sam called, flicking the lever the other way. George watched as it came down, soon rendering them no escape. When the murky liquid was the only thing that he could see, he supposed it was time to face his fears.

He took a deep breath and turned around, coming face-to-face with his worst nightmare.

Dream stared at George, eyes roving up and down his figure. He didn’t show any sort of emotion, but he exuded an angry aura that caused George to shiver. Dream stared at George for another moment before turning around, walking back towards the small row of trinkets that he had set out for him.

The two of them said nothing. Silence wrapped around them, holding each of them in her embrace. George gritted his teeth, shrinking back, almost letting himself call out for Sam—

But something stopped him.

He needed to know the truth.

He needed to know what Dream thought of all this.

He needed to know if Dream had regrets.

He needed to know if Dream _loved_ him.

George took a shaky breath, using that time to calm himself down, then wrenched himself from Silence’s grasp.

“So,” he began, staring at the broken man in front of him. “Are you happy?”

There was no response. Dream was hunched over, his hands resting on the end of his crafting table. His fingernails dug into the edges, tracing over the outline that helped the citizens of the land to create. George wondered if Dream missed being able to do that. He could create nothing in his cell.

George waited for a reply, hoping that Dream would grant him with one. He got nothing for around two minutes, opening his mouth to speak again, but Dream interrupted him.

“Are you?” He whispered, voice weary from time. It was obvious that he hadn’t been drinking enough water, and his form was a lot leaner. George assumed that nobody could hear Dream, not even if he screamed his heart out, so he did not doubt that he had done that as well. 

“I…” George began, hesitating to answer. “I asked you first.”

A harsh laugh escaped Dream’s lips, one devoid of humor. “Childish as ever, Georgie,” he joked, but George no longer thought that it was harmless. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. His eyes were narrowed, glaring daggers into the man that had broken him. For a while, there was nothing, until eventually, Dream turned his head.

He gazed at George, dark circles under his eyes. His hair was mussed and his cheeks were sunken in. He looked like a ghost. 

Dream’s next word cut directly into George’s soul, sounding simple yet pointed. “ _What_?” 

George’s hands balled into fists. He had never stood up like this to Dream before, nobody had! Well, George supposed that there were people who had, but they had never been successful. Dream had taken care of them and made sure that they wouldn’t get in the way of his plans. George never had a reason before to stand up to Dream, always having been given the world, but now he realized that was just an illusion. It was a utopia hidden inside a greater dystopia, one in which George had been blinded from seeing. Now he had ripped off the bandages, seeing the misery that Dream created, and he was mortified that one man could cause so much damage.

“Don’t make this out like I’m the bad guy,” George growled, trying to keep his frustration at bay. “I’m asking you a question. Are you happy?”

Dream took a while to answer. He seemed to be considering the point, gazing thoughtfully at the clock on his wall. He stared at it until another minute ticked by, hand reaching out to press over the cool surface. Once he had the clock secured in his hand, he returned his attention to George.

“No.”

“No?” George continued, surprised that Dream had answered him. “Why?”

Dream blinked, emerald eyes making contact with George’s chocolate brown. Those were the same eyes that George had fallen in love with, the ones that he would gaze into while they watched the sunset every night, the ones that stared back at him with just as much love and adoration as George knew he himself harbored. 

He had thought the feeling was mutual. Apparently not.

“I’m not finished,” Dream admitted, moving his free arm to gesture around the room. “I can’t do much here. I was telling a story, George. You know that I’m a writer.”

“A writer puts a pen to paper,” George seethed, “not a sword to flesh.”

“I’m telling a story,” Dream insisted. “You always loved my stories.”

George thought about it. It was true, he had always loved it when Dream wove narratives from thin air, reciting them to him in a practiced manner. He had heard stories about two immature boys, ones that stole something important from a powerful champion. They had died in the end. He heard stories about a nation that split into two, a callous dictator that looked to control everything, bombshells and fireworks that rained from the sky and killed them all.

He had never known that those stories were true until now.

Dream had included himself in those stories. He spoke about a hero that was trying to bring peace, one that wanted to unite everyone. The Hero was alone, he had always been, and nobody understood his motives. He had wanted unity from the start, but a group of nasty people had rebelled against him. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but after multiple tries to settle things without violence, he had determined that sacrifices had to be made.

The Hero had his own wants. He had a best friend that was constantly involved in these wars, a man that he tried to protect. He was known as The Arsonist, having a gift for fire, especially concerning his explosive personality. The Hero had done everything in his power to nurture what he loved and keep him safe.

The Hero himself came from a background of nothing. Dream described The Hero as someone who had been manipulated, who had recovered from that terrible treatment, and as someone who never wanted another person to go through what he had to. To keep everyone safe, he had to make sure they were on one collective side, and that was what led him to do a lot of the actions that he was misunderstood for. George had understood him. George had been on his side.

The Hero desired something else. He had fallen in love with a handsome man, one that he had called The Man. The Man was a King, one that had been trapped in a life of riches and luxury. He was constantly heading out to his garden, wanting to escape the position that he was in, and that was where he had met The Hero.

The Hero was infatuated with him from the start, and while The Man was interested, he didn’t seem like he returned the feelings. Nonetheless, the two of them became great friends over time, and eventually, those feelings were reciprocated.

The Man had gone to The Hero in his darkest times. The Hero had been there for him through it all. When The Man admitted that he didn’t want to be King anymore, he and The Hero devised a plan.

The Hero retrieved a citizen from the kingdom, one that desperately wanted to be in power. He made sure that he would be a good ruler— certainly not as good as The Man, but close. The Citizen was established as the new King after The Man faked his death. The Man and The Hero had run off that night, barreling into the unknown as the sun had set. It was a beautiful euphemism, and Dream had always gotten teary-eyed when repeating the end of the story. The Man and The Hero ended up spending the rest of their lives together, and The Arsonist made a life of his own. He was still present in the lives of The Man and The Hero, so The Hero knew that he was safe. The couple grew old together until they inevitably passed away together, painlessly in their sleep.

It was a beautiful story.

It was a terrible story.

It was a story that caused George to believe he could find happiness. If The Hero and The Man managed to find it throughout all their problems, throughout their flaws, why couldn’t he? 

George now knew that he couldn’t.

He would never be happy.

Not unless he had Dream, and he knew that was impossible.

“George,” Dream spoke calmly, placing his hand on his cheek. George wanted to pull back from the touch but found himself leaning into it. He blinked a few times, the blurriness of his vision fading away. Dream’s thumb traced his cheeks, breaking the wet trails of tears that George produced.

Since when had George been crying?

“Dream,” George sniffled, moving his hand up to rest over the blond’s. “Help me.”

No more words needed to be said. Dream wrapped his arms around George, pulling him into his warm embrace. The smaller man immediately found purchase in his chest, burying his face into the crook of his neck. He sobbed silently, allowing Dream to play with his hair. George heard the sweet nothings being whispered into his ears, the simple words that he could barely make out, and for a moment it seemed like everything was back to normal. 

“George,” Dream repeated, and _oh_ , how George missed the familiar rumble of his chest, “it’s just another part of the story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Karl's stream about The Lost City of Mizu gave me plenty of ideas, whew! 
> 
> I hope that you all enjoy this one! I wrote it at my computer so it's a bit longer, but still pretty short for how I write my stories. I had a lot of fun relating Dream's explanation to him being a writer. I am a writer myself, so I suppose that it's easier for me to make those analogies rather than others.
> 
> Tell me what you think of this fic! I'm always down to chat in the comments, and don't forget that you can join the DDK Discord anytime! The link should be in the note that is at the end of every chapter.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Astrid <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George goes to confide in Sapnap. The plan was to try and gain advice from someone that was there when Dream was arrested, but nothing goes according to plan these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter talks about suicide, bleeding, and the idea of bugs crawling over someone's skin. Things are beginning to pick up. If any of these topics are harmful to you, this is where you stop reading. Your health is imperative above all.

George had left the prison unanswered. Dream had managed to manipulate him yet _again_ , and he didn’t even have to say much. Even when Dream was in prison, a man that had lost _everything_ , he still maintained power over George.

Was he really that weak?

George hated to think of himself that way, but it was the truth. He had come for answers, come to find out Dream’s true motives, but he had failed miserably. He didn’t know if he had the mental strength to even go back now.

He had seen Dream in there. He had seen how the blond was suffering, seen the conditions that he had been succumbed to, seen that he had nothing, and he had still managed to fuck up. 

It was disgraceful. 

George was disgraceful.

So he decided to go to the one person that he knew wasn’t.

The door to Sapnap’s base opened, George watching as he did. He had messaged the other with his communicator beforehand, letting him know that he would be arriving. He and Sapnap hadn’t talked in ages — not since Dream had been put in prison — but George knew it was about time that they did.

After all, Sapnap was one of the few that had been there from the start. He had been there when the citizens revolted against their former leader. He had seen the horrors that Dream was hiding, the artifacts that had been hidden in his base, and he had experienced first-hand the pain of seeing that his prized fish, Beckerson, was captured and taken hostage. George hadn’t been there, and he supposed that he needed to know more about the situation.

George dropped down into the water after the door was opened, landing safely in it. He looked around, wondering if Sapnap was nearby.

His question was answered when he locked eyes with the raven, Sapnap sitting against one of the red walls by the entrance. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and he was trembling, small sniffling noises audible from where he was. His head was buried in his hands, raven hair mussed. His bandanna laid on the floor next to him, his elastic was gone, and his long hair was down in all its glory.

At that moment, George realized that he wasn’t the only broken man.

“Sapnap…” George quavered, reaching out towards the raven. He stepped out of the water, ignoring the wetness of his sneakers as he invited himself to sit down next to him. Sapnap, a ruthless man known for arson and pet killing, had now been reduced to this.

“George?” Sapnap faltered, lifting his head. George caught sight of those watery eyes, the ones that looked at him with a hint of uncertainty. It hurt George to see Sapnap like this. He was normally so strong… 

George smiled sadly, opening his arms for the other. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Sapnap wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the brunet, tight and secure, just like they had always been. He buried his face in George’s shoulder, allowing the brunet to gently rub his back. Normally it was Sapnap who had his walls up, afraid of letting them down for even his closest allies, but this was different.

Dream had betrayed everyone. He had sacrificed the friendships of the few people he had on his side, and for what? Power? Power was nothing in comparison to friendship, or at least George thought so.

He thought about how this whole situation would have sounded entirely unbelievable before. He had thought that he had friends. He thought that Dream was one of them. He had thought that there was a time in which Dream cherished them, perhaps when it was just the Dream Team, but now George didn’t know.

It scared him. He didn’t know his own history. Had he ever known? 

Sapnap had begun to calm down by now, his whimpers and sobs turning into an occasional stray sniffle. George took this as his chance to try and speak up. He had come to his friend for advice — advice that he knew was trustworthy — and he hoped that he had the advice to give.

“Have you seen him yet?” George whispered, speaking to the raven as if he were a lost child. Sapnap was in a vulnerable state, and he didn’t want to scare him away. “Dream?”

Sapnap took a while to answer, but George didn’t blame him. This wasn’t the same type of silence that he and Dream had shared before, this was the kind that two friends could have. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t scary, and it certainly wasn’t unappreciated. Despite all the little arguments and disagreements that George and Sapnap had in the past, they needed each other, and they had always been good enough friends to push their differences aside for moments like these.

“No,” he answered, “have you?”

George nodded, running his fingers through Sapnap’s hair. He watched the other pull away from his chest, cheeks red and blotchy. He stared at George with wide eyes, letting his tanned fingers interlace with pale, skinny ones. “How did it go?”

George flinched at the question. He thought that he had been ready for it, but he supposed that he would have never been. His whole world was falling apart and changing — everything that he once knew was an illusion — and he was now relearning things for what they were. What had Dream _done_ to him?

“Not well,” he admitted, ignoring the new form of contact that he and Sapnap shared. “I tried to ask him questions. He managed to manipulate everything back to how he wanted it. He didn’t even have to do much.”

Sapnap’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on George’s hands. “Did he hurt you?” He probed, and George couldn’t help but feel his heart melt at the way that his tone had immediately changed. 

“Hasn’t he hurt us all?”

George spoke gravely, his voice no longer high-pitched and lifted as it had always been. Sapnap seemed to notice this, his jaw clenching. His eyes were still red from his tears, but he cocked his head to the side, a silent indicator for George to continue.

“But to answer your question, no, he didn’t,” George began, letting his gaze drop to his lap. “Not physically. Sapnap, I… need your advice. I don’t know how to go back. I don’t know if I _can_ go back. Not after what happened in that cell.”

“Georgie…” Sapnap trailed off, moving his right hand up to gently cup his cheek. “What did he say to you?” George’s eyes widened at the gesture.

He saw him. He saw Dream, Dream in the prison, the same man that had so gingerly wiped away his tears. The blond gazed at him with an unchanging expression, fingers curling inwards now. George yelped as he felt them begin to dig into his skin, nails tugging downwards. Blood seeped out of the wound, down his neck and jaw, eventually staining the collar of his shirt with crimson.

It was disgusting. It looked like mud. George was bleeding dirt and mud, and he felt almost as if little bugs were crawling down his skin with it. He could feel their legs tapping over him, unable to recognize what they were. They walked down his skin and tucked themselves under his shirt, traveling lower and lower, and Dream just watched it all.

Dream watched George bleed, eyes cold and unrelenting. “Stop!” George pleaded, trying to reach out, “please stop!”

Even though Dream was right in front of him, his fingers felt through nothing. His hand slid right through his body as if he were a ghost, and George didn’t know what to do. He was bleeding out, he could feel himself getting weaker, he could feel his legs wobbling, on the verge of collapse—

And Dream smiled. Dream smiled a genuine smile, one that showed no hint of maliciousness towards him. He finally seemed happy, the curve of his lips being slightly different from the times that he had previously with George. Were those smiles fake? This one seemed _so_ much more radiant, similar to that of the sun. Dream was the sun, and he was scorching. 

“Don’t hide yourself,” Dream taunted, “you’re beautiful.”

“No,” George begged, “not like this!”

Dream laughed, letting George go, looming over him. They were still in the prison, George could see it from the obsidian walls and dim lights. He gazed fearfully into the eyes of the man he once loved — the man he _still_ loved — the one that he was finally making happy.

“Everything I do,” Dream purred, tilting George’s chin up, “I do for you.”

“NO!” George gasped, a guttural scream ripping from his throat. He panted, eyes wide, blinking rapidly as he took in the world around him.

He was safe. He wasn’t in the prison, he was safe. He was surrounded by red walls and Blackstone, he could hear the faint sounds of pets in the background, he could feel arms around him— 

He was being hugged.

He was being hugged by a man, the one that refused to show weakness for anybody. He felt a hand on his hip, tugging him closer, then another one planted on the small of his back. His head was pressed into the crook of the raven’s neck, ear hearing the faint thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, and he was _safe_. 

“—orge, Georgie,” a voice cut through the thoughts racing in his head, pulling him out of the daydream. “George, God, are you alright?”

George said nothing. He didn’t know what had come over him. His arms were limp at his sides, almost too heavy to move. He fought against his own mind, fought against the pain in his muscles, and managed to move one of them to grasp onto the man’s shirt. His fingers curled into it, he took deep breaths, and he could _smell_ him.

He could smell ashes— ashes from a burning candle. He allowed himself time to process. 

He processed the strong hands around his form.

He processed the match that those fingers would delicately hold.

He processed the smell of ashes, the smell of burning, and tied to one singular man—

_Sapnap_.

Sapnap was _holding_ him, Sapnap was _hugging_ him, Sapnap was his _shield_. Sapnap was his lifeline, the one that he could go to when he was drowning in a deep, blue sea. Sapnap was the fire that would burn the world around them, anything to keep George safe, anything to make sure he was _free_.

None of them were free. None of them would ever _be_ free. Not as long as Dream existed, not as long as he still had influence, and not as long as he still had people who cared. 

Dream was right, attachments were a weakness, and he happened to be very good at controlling them.

“Georgie,” Sapnap said again, hoping the nickname would lighten the mood, “I lost you, man, you were in a daze. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” George breathed, “I’m alright.”

Sapnap held him for a moment longer, allowing the heat of his body to be shared. George hadn’t even noticed how cold he had gotten, or perhaps Sapnap was just warm, but it looked like the raven was shivering from the touch of his skin. The brunet felt bad, both of his hands settling on his shoulders, pushing him back and away from him.

“What was that?” Sapnap wondered. “You were mumbling a lot, something about bugs?”

George’s eyes were blank. His mind was racing. He was calmer, but he still had the same thoughts. They were getting louder now, bouncing against the fragile walls of his mind, begging to come out. If the prison was Pandora’s Vault, George’s mind was a hellhole. He could only imagine the pain that woman had to go through, to keep her thoughts, her secrets, and the pain of the world all to herself. He understood why it would be easier to let go, but for him to do that, he needed to see Dream.

“Thanks for your help, Sapnap,” George pulled back, much to the raven’s confusion, “but I have somewhere else to be.”

“George,” Sapnap warned, pushing himself up onto his feet. He reached out for the brunet as he turned, hand curling around his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I need to see Dream,” George said matter-of-factly, causing Sapnap to be even more concerned.

“Georgie,” Sapnap said desperately, “stop. Something is wrong with you, I know it! I get that we are all suffering, I know that you’re not in the best frame of mind right now, and I understand how much you just want to forget _all_ of this, but you have to _think_!”

“You don’t know how much I have been through!” George broke, eyes filling with tears, “you don’t know how much I _hate_ myself! I get that he’s toxic, I _know_ I should stay away, but I _need_ to see him! He helps me! He numbs my pain, he hurts me until it’s impossible for me to feel pain! He’s the reason I haven’t killed myself, Sapnap! He’s my _pulse_!” 

“His words are bullets!” Sapnap cried, “they’ll cut through you! They’re hurting you!”

“And I’ll kiss each one,” George said coldly, the tears finally spilling over, “I will, because I love the person behind the trigger.”

And with those final words, George left the base, not bothering to look back even once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a general idea for this, but I don't know specifically what each chapter entails. I completely improvised what I had going on here, but this chapter in particular was so much fun to write. I think that I have more fun when I am able to use words of a greater variety and write about more serious topics in the world. Don't get me wrong, I love my fluff, but the possibilities for a storyline around Dream being in jail were just too intriguing to NOT explore!
> 
> Anyways, you'll find some tissues to your left and cookies to your right. I get that this chapter may have been harder to read. If you guys need to stop following this book or take breaks in between reading it, I understand! This is going to be a pretty serious one in comparison to what I normally write.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Astrid <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When George goes to try and see Dream, he comes across someone else leaving the prison. The two of them stop and have a chat.

George approached the entrance of the prison, eyes narrowed as he did. He knew that he had already seen Dream that day, but he supposed that Sam wouldn’t mind if he went to see him again. He hoped not, at least, and even if he was, he had a few tricks up his sleeve to try and change his mind.

What George didn’t expect to see, however, was someone else exiting the prison. He stopped and stepped to the side to let them come out, waiting for them to be gone.

As the other person came into the light, George only felt his anger grow. This was the person that started all of these problems. This was the boy who had very immaturely tried to sell drugs and had connected love with his two stupid discs. This was the boy who had ruined property, impulsively decided to go against what he already knew, and who had brought out the monster in Dream as a result.

This was TommyInnit, the arrogant blond that thought he was better than everyone else.

Tommy took a deep breath, sighing as he straightened his armor— _Dream’s_ armor. His head was tilted downwards as he did so, but he looked up when he was done, rummaging for the trident strapped to the pack on his back. Once he had gotten ahold of it, he turned his gaze towards one of the water pillars, and that’s when his eyes met with George’s.

The two of them said nothing, staring at each other and processing who they were. Tommy seemed surprised at first, then soon smirked, planting the end of the trident into the ground as he leaned against it. George wasn’t as amused.

“Well, if it isn’t GeorgeNotFound,” Tommy laughed, braces glinting under the light of the sun. “How’re you doing now that your _boyfriend_ is locked up?”

George grit his teeth, balling his hands into fists. He wasn’t holding a weapon at the moment, but the way that his hand twitched to reach back towards his bag meant that he wanted to. “Tommy, I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled. Tommy didn’t seem to recognize his struggle, raising one of his arms to gesture to the world around them.

“What?” Tommy scoffed, raising his eyebrows. “You gonna go see him? Gonna go cry ‘cause your little _Dreamie_ didn’t care that much about you? If I were you, I would suggest staying away from that bastard. He’s unstable.”

George was getting even angrier now. Tommy’s words stung — they stung because they were true — and George didn’t want to face the truth right now. He wanted to forget that any of this happened, go back to the prison and collapse into Dream’s arms, perhaps watch the clock together instead of the sunset… he wanted it all. If George was selfish, he didn’t care. He deserved this, he deserved _Dream_ , and he was desperate to go back to him and get the validation that he needed.

“Is that so?” George managed to say, trying to keep himself calm. “Did you go see him?”

Tommy nodded proudly, dropping his extended arm at his side. “Yep! It was super annoying too, Sam made me sign three fuckin’ documents and I had to go through this shitty security system, but in the end, I got to see the fucker.”

George hummed, letting his weight be shifted so that he was leaning on his right leg. “What did he say to you?”

Tommy’s smile instantly faded. It was unusual for him, a boy that always looked on the bright side, to be so broken at the mention of seeing the man who he was manipulated by multiple times. As much as George hated Tommy, he certainly didn’t agree with the things that Dream had done to him, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy as a result. Even though he was immature, he was just a kid, and he deserved to have a normal childhood instead of being caught up in multiple wars in history.

“Y’know, he confused me,” Tommy admitted. “He was really fuckin’ sad. Like— I-hate-life-and-there-is-nothing-else-to-live-for kinda sad— like when I was in exile! It was kinda relieving, but also kinda worrying.”

Sad? Dream hadn’t been sad when George had visited him. He had been angry, sure, and even a bit kind, but he didn’t seem like he had regretted any of the things that he had done. He supposed that Dream being sad didn’t necessarily have to correlate to regret, but just the thought of the strong warrior that he knew moping around baffled him.

“What sorts of things did he say to you?” George wondered, gazing into those sky-blue eyes. They reminded him of the ocean, multiple bodies of water that he had almost drowned in multiple times. George forced himself to push those thoughts back — push back all the thoughts of self-hatred and Dream — and instead focused on what Tommy had to say.

“Man, I dunno,” Tommy groaned, reaching up to take his helmet off. He held it in his hands as he talked to George, still leaning against Dream’s trident. “He was super broken. Wasn’t talking any sense. He’s hurt himself with the lava and describes how he watches the clock, but when I tried to make fun of the shitty room that he was living in, he only seemed to focus on the positives.”

“Positives?” George snorted. “What sort of positives could there be in prison?”

Tommy shrugged. “The fuck if I know, but he seemed to find some. He talked about how he was given food and provided for in that sense, how he had books that he could write in, and how he could bathe in his little cauldron. He spoke fuckin’ quietly, too. I’ve never seen him act like that before.”

“Oh,” George breathed, not knowing what else to say. There were so many things that he wanted to ask, so many things that he wanted to know, but he had to settle on one. “Did he… did he apologize for anything?”

Tommy’s breath hitched, cerulean eyes going wide at the question. He bit his lip, brow slightly furrowed, then nodded. “Yeah,” he answered, swallowing before speaking again. “Yeah, he did. He said he was sorry ‘cause he lost everyone, but I’m not sure if I buy it. I don’t forgive him.”

George didn’t know what was coming over him, but he felt himself beginning to feel sympathy for the boy. As much as he hated Tommy and his immaturity, it was clear that a part of that was a coping mechanism for going through trauma, just like everyone else on the server had. He stared at Tommy for another moment, taking in the sight of him, then finally gained the courage to speak again.

“You don’t have to forgive him,” he advised, reaching out towards the taller blond. “He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. All we can do is just… hope that he changes.”

Tommy felt George’s hand on his shoulder, jumping from the sudden contact. He gasped and looked down at his arm, then back up at the brunet’s eyes. He had made fun of him so many times, fought against him in previous wars, and had destroyed different things that he loved, yet George was able to push those things to the side. As much as Tommy had been trying to persuade him to before, he had never done it himself, and the blond was reminded of just how much of a hypocrite he was.

“I asked him who he missed the most,” he blurted out, making a mental note of how George visibly tensed. “He didn’t answer me. He told me to leave, but if there’s anyone that he misses a whole fuckin’ lot, it’s gotta be you.”

“What?” George stressed, eyes wide. “You… asked him that? And he didn’t answer you?”

“Nope,” Tommy shook his head. “Not a single fuckin’ word.”

George was silent, not knowing what to say. Tommy didn’t know what to say either. The two of them stared at each other, enemies that were now behaving like friends. George still didn’t consider Tommy to be a friend, but he supposed that he wasn’t that bad. He was going through a lot at the moment, but then again, everyone was. George just knew that no matter how broken he was, he had to keep Tommy safe.

As much as he hated to admit it, Tommy was a child. He didn’t deserve any of this. If George and Sapnap, two full-fledged adults, were struggling as much as they were, he couldn’t even imagine how Tommy was feeling. Tommy was the one that got the lion’s share of interactions with Dream, and while George didn’t know everything, he knew the basics.

He was able to figure it out while trying to piece the story back together. It was hard, but he managed to do it. He knew that Dream had found fun in making sure that Tommy was hurting, and knew that if he wasn’t put in prison that he wouldn’t have stopped. Things were better this way.

“Thank you, Tommy,” George broke the silence, offering him a small smile as he pulled his hand away. “You’re a good kid.”

Tommy’s cheeks instantly turned red and the scowl returned to his face, but George knew that it was all in good nature. “I’m not a kid, I’m a _man_!” He exclaimed, jabbing his thumb towards his chest. “A fuckin’ big one, too! You should refer to me as Big T from now on, Gogy. That’s what everyone else calls me.”

George giggled, one of the first happy sounds that he had made in a while. He couldn’t believe that it was _Tommy_ who had been the one to cheer him up, but he supposed that angels were hidden in the most unlikely people. “Sure,” he agreed, and Tommy’s face was _glowing_ now, “Big T.”

“YEAH!” Tommy screamed, curling his fingers around the edge of the trident. He picked it up from the ground, holding it up to the sky as he did an exaggerated pose. “Did you hear that, Green Boy!? GeorgeNotFound called me Big T! Suck on that, ya fuckin’ prick!”

George rolled his eyes at the sight but burst out into wheezing fits of laughter when a crack of lightning sounded around them. During their conversation, George and Tommy hadn’t noticed the rainclouds that were gathering above their head. The water came pouring down, drenching the both of them, but George didn’t seem to mind. It was Tommy who looked annoyed, the sixteen-year-old groaning as he felt his shirt stick to his skin.

“Looks like today is not your day,” George joked, watching as Tommy whirled back to look at him with an annoyed expression.

“Oh, shut up _GeorgeNotFound_. You’re stuck in this too,” he scoffed, but this time he couldn’t hide the smile present on his lips. “Anyways, I gotta get back to Tubbo. You have fun figuring this out on your own!”

Tommy cast a wave over his shoulder before raising the trident in the air, muttering a quick spell. He felt the magic run through him, then shot off into the air, landing safely on one of the water pillars nearby.

George watched him go, reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes. He smiled at the sight of the teenager, then turned back to look at the prison. 

Dream was a criminal. The man that he loved was trapped, the one that he went to when he needed comfort was there, and the so-called god that everyone used to look up to was now nothing more than a fragment in their minds. A very important fragment, but a fragment nonetheless.

George walked up to the Blackstone walls, staring at the material there. He let his hand come out, fingers brushing against the damp stone. He felt the rough edges, the slight spikes digging into his skin, but he didn’t care. This was the closest that he could be to Dream at the moment.

The former king stared at the wall for a moment longer, trying to process the various thoughts racing through his head. He finally pressed his forehead against the stone, closing his eyes while he did.

“Dream,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I want to help you, but I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who _I_ am. You’ve ruined me.”

He pulled his head back and opened his eyes once more, letting his hand slide down from the cold walls. George allowed himself another moment of silent consolation, then turned around.

He walked away from the prison, hands shoved in his pockets. He felt the spray of the rain hitting his nose, reminding him of simpler times. He missed those days where he and Dream would run through it together, laughing while holding hands. He missed the times in which the two of them would explore, sometimes sailing out on rickety boats or other times swinging through the tops of trees to get a better view. He missed the way that Dream would hold him, one hand settled on his hip, the other gently cupping his cheek. He missed it all, missed every moment with him, but the times that he missed the most were the times in which Dream would push his mask to the side, leaning in, and the press of their lips against each other would create a light in the dark.

He missed Dream’s love, but he knew he couldn’t go back. He had to stay away. He hadn’t been ready before, and he certainly wasn’t ready now.

He had to find himself.

He had to fix himself.

He had to pick up the pieces of shattered glass and meld them together again.

He had to find the colors that he once had within him, the beautiful mosques of light, and create a window that could show Dream how beautiful life was. He had to show Dream how beautiful _he_ was, but he had to find himself first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, we are trying something new here! I got this chapter beta read by Grammarly for free (I am not paying for the Premium version as of late). This note that I am writing right now is also being corrected by Grammarly! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! We are almost halfway done with this fic. Can you believe it? 
> 
> I have an actual outline for the chapters now. I sat down at midnight yesterday and did it, and I am excited about what is coming up. Hopefully, the updates will continue to be as common as they are now, but I have a lot of tests and other assignments coming up, so we will see. All I know is that I have the motivation as of now to continue this fic until the end, and we will see where it leads.
> 
> As always, thank you guys for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Astrid
> 
> P.S. Don't forget that you can join the DDK Discord in the general note! It should be at the end of every chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George takes some time to think about Dream and if he really wants anything to do with him. There might be an easier way out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was proofread by free Grammarly again! Also, fair warning, things tend to get a lot more gruesome here. We did have references to suicide and other gory things in the past, but there is a particular scene with a rose that involves blood and various forms of manipulation. This can be triggering to some, so I suggest that you click off now if you are.

George allowed his legs to dangle over the edge of the railing, swinging over nothing. He was in a secret place that only he and Dream knew about, or at least that’s what he thought. He and Dream had always been the only ones to go to this place in the past, but George supposed that it could have all been a lie. Dream was full of lies.

This particular area was nice and secluded, yet there were higher points of elevation within the premises. Dream and George had an oasis all to themselves, with multiple variations of plants and animals settling there. While George was not the best swimmer, he had a connection with water due to his limited vision, and Dream knew that blue was a color that stood out to him. That’s why he had taken him to one of the most beautiful places in his land, one with filtered water and the best sunlight. George recalled how he and Dream would sit together on the side of the water, watching the light bounce off of the surface. Those moments were beautiful, and George would give almost anything to go back to that time.

There were so many little things that George missed. It seemed like Dream was the one person that he couldn’t live without — that he was the oxygen that George breathed — and George couldn’t do anything about it. He knew that he had fallen in deep before, but he had never thought that he would be in a position like this. He allowed himself to be vulnerable, he allowed himself to trust Dream, he allowed himself to fall in love with his best friend, and it was all for naught.

Dream was never the person that anyone thought he was. He was both more and less than what they expected, and it scared George. How could someone that he thought he knew be so distant? How could the man that he had fallen in love with be a fraud? How could he have allowed himself to get manipulated so easily?

George could almost picture Dream sitting next to him, hands pressed back against the top of the building. It seemed like only yesterday they had sat just like this, legs touching nothing, feeling like they could push off and fly. 

George honestly considered it now. If he pushed, perhaps he could be free. Perhaps he could be free from this world, free from the pain that he had to endure, and free from the realization of knowing that his best friend had never been there for him. George could be free from life— hit the ground and disappear without a warning. He could be gone and his pain would be over.

It seemed like a plausible idea, but was it really worth it?

Would people miss him? Would people even come to say goodbye if given the chance? George did not doubt that Sapnap would be one of those people, but he wouldn’t want the arsonist to know. If he were to do this, he would do it for himself, and he would keep his distance so that he didn’t end up hurting him in the end. Sapnap had his own problems to deal with, and George didn’t want to become one of them.

Was he ever appreciated on the server to begin with? George was notorious for sleeping, and it seemed that after he had awoken, he was the laughing stock of the entire SMP. People constantly blamed him for their problems, saying that nothing would have ever happened if he had just woken up, and it was happening so often that the line between light humor and pointed anger began to blur.

Did people hate George? Did they wish he wasn’t around? George wouldn’t be surprised if they did. He hated himself, so why wouldn’t others have the right to hate him as well? Perhaps it was for the better. Perhaps everything would be better off if he took the leap of faith and crumbled against the ground. He was already shattered, sharp pieces of glass scattered across the distant land that he used to know. It would be next to impossible for him to fix himself, so what was the point?

George closed his eyes, thinking of Dream again. He knew that the other had been trying to keep him stuck in an illusion — in some sort of fantasy world — but if George was being honest, it wasn’t so bad. 

He had everything that he wanted when he was there.

He had amazing friends that cared about him. He had all the riches and keepsakes that he could ever wish for. He had a love that bloomed from a long-lasting friendship, one that he shared with the man he had always trusted the most. He had _Dream_. Dream had always been enough for him.

Dream made him feel whole. He was the missing piece to the puzzle. George was the lock and Dream was the key, the man that really appreciated him for who he _really_ was, not the persona that he put on. Dream loved George because he was George, and he was the only person (aside from Sapnap) that he would let his walls down around.

While Dream’s walls were as high as fortresses, George’s were much shorter. They were heavily guarded by snide quips and mocking jokes, ones that made him feel complete. Despite heavily guarding the reality of who he was, Dream had managed to break through, tearing that barrier down with a simple smile.

Dream’s smiles were always something else. It was quite ironic; his signature symbol was a smile, but he seldom smiled himself. It took something special to make Dream smile — a _real_ smile, not a smirk — and George thought he had that spark. 

He had it when he and Dream were together, and yet…

Dream had not smiled once when George saw him in the prison. He had been so cold and distant, different from the man that he knew when they were truly alone. 

George missed Dream. He missed the man behind the mask. He wished that Dream knew who he was as well. Maybe then they could finally be together.

The brunet looked down over his legs, estimating how far a fall it would be. He determined that it would be pretty substantial, definitely enough to kill. It was so easy to just end it all, do it right here and now, but something stopped him.

He hadn’t heard It in a very long time.

He had thought that he was rid of It.

He had thought that Dream had cured him.

The Voice whispered silkily into his ear, a garbled language that George couldn’t quite understand. He supposed that he didn’t need to understand the actual words, it was more about the tone of voice and the effect that It had on him.

The Voice had made him do many things. It had helped him to hate himself, helped him to cut in the past, and had definitely driven him close to the point of ending it all, but for some reason, It seemed to be stopping him now.

George was confused as to why it was. Didn’t The Voice want him to die? Didn’t It want him to suffer, to loathe himself, to stop being a coward and selfishly escape from the world that he lived in? He was afraid of The Voice, scared to listen to it again, but he was also curious. What had changed?

He allowed The Voice to speak to him. He allowed himself to listen. He tried to make sense of the nonsensical words in his head, closing his eyes. He pictured green stems, red petals, and the yellow center of the flower. He imagined the colors to the best of his ability, allowing It to take him to his mind palace.

It had been neglected over time, torn and barren from decay. The things that he used to hold dear had since begun to fade, and _this_ was how George knew he was broken.

There was nothing. It looked like a wasteland— an empty room. Nothing stood out to him anymore, nothing except the flower that he had managed to imagine. He let his hands come forwards, cupping around the cool edge of the pot.

Roses were Dream’s favorite type of flower. George had made fun of him before, thinking that it was stupid that he would like such a typical flower, but Dream had made roses mean something new to him.

_“Your favorite flower is a_ rose _?” George asked incredulously, nose wrinkling at the prospect. “You_ are _a hopeless romantic!”_

_Dream rolled his eyes, simply twirling the freshly picked flower in his hands. He let the pads of his fingers run over the thorns attached, seemingly not worried about removing them. George watched in awe as his skin was pierced, blood seeping through the wound._

_He wasn’t scared. Dream wasn’t scared, so George had no reason to be. George was everything that Dream was, or at least he wanted to be, and he was determined to learn how to love himself again by observing the other’s behaviors._

_“I’m not a romantic,” Dream insisted, looking back over his shoulder. George stared into the beady eyes of his mask, the small holes that he could barely see a flash of green through. George allowed himself to get lost in those eyes, hardly processing that Dream was coming closer._

_“You’re a romantic for me,” he pointed out, to which Dream laughed._

_“You’re not wrong,” he admitted, holding the rose in his nondamaged hand. He let the one with the cut come forwards, brushing against George’s cheek. George leaned into his warm touch, closing his eyes as he relished the moment. Even though George couldn’t see it, he could hear the smile in the way that Dream softly exhaled._

_Dream let some of his blood smudge against George’s cheek, like painting a masterpiece on the surface. He drew two eyes and a large smile, a way of marking the other as his own. He pulled back when he was done and pressed a feather-light kiss to the tip of George’s nose, one that the brunet associated with being as soft as an angel’s touch._

_“You’re gorgeous,” Dream mused, causing George to shudder, “but no beautiful thing is without its flaws. You’re not perfect, Georgie, and neither am I. We’re both monsters deep down.”_

_George opened one eye, peeking up at those soft lips. He caught a glimpse of some of the freckles around Dream’s cheek, tilting his head more to see around the mask. “I’m your monster,” he grinned, an attempt to lighten the mood._

_Dream smiled down at him, though the expression on his face seemed somber instead of enthusiastic. “I appreciate that, George,” he mumbled, “but monsters are monsters. They should not be praised. Everyone has them — everyone has demons that lull them to bed each night — and it’s just a matter of time before they corrupt you.”_

_George frowned, pulling back from Dream’s grip. “That’s a terrible way to think of life,” he pouted, folding his arms._

_“Is it not true?” Dream retorted, letting his bloody hand drop. He didn’t care about the steady liquid traveling down his fingers, instead focusing back on the flower he was holding “They say roses are very strong. They take a while to die and can survive under large amounts of pressure, but have you ever asked_ why _?”_

_George stopped to ponder this question. No, he had never asked why the rose was so strong, but then again, he had never really thought about it. Dream was making him think, though. Dream always made him think._

_“You haven’t,” Dream continued, noting George’s hesitance to answer, “and that’s alright. Let me tell you why a rose is so strong.”_

_Dream curled his crimson fingers into a fist, holding it up to show George how tight it was. Dream was a strong man, just like the rose. George admired that._

_“The rose is corrupted. It has let its demons take over. Do you see these thorns?”_

_George nodded._

_Dream smiled. “Do you trust me?”_

_George nodded._

_Dream reached over and grabbed George’s hand, bringing it closer to his own. George watched Dream with wide eyes, not caring that his porcelain skin was stained red. He watched as Dream lifted his hand, gingerly kissing the top of his knuckles. George blushed at the move, then watched as Dream handed the rose to him._

_The blond helped George to close his hand around the stem, movements smooth and not without a purpose. Any normal person would have been scared knowing what was coming, but George was not. He allowed the thorns to press past layers of skin, implanting themselves in the middle. Blood began to seep out from the sides of the wounds, yet George kept his hand held tight. Dream pulled back when George was completely holding the rose, bloody hand and all. The liquid began to drip down the palm of his hand as well, and George couldn’t help but smile at the thought._

_He and Dream were matching._

_They were twinning._

_Dream had never given George a piece of his clothing — never been one to share things — but this felt strangely more intimate. George didn’t know of any other couples that quite literally made themselves bleed with the thorns of roses; accepting the signs of corruption. The moment was both terrifying yet painfully beautiful. George would do it again. He would do_ anything _for Dream._

_“I have demons,” Dream admitted, “that I am learning to accept. Everyone has to be a bit selfish every so often. Let the thorns corrupt you. Listen to your demons. Become a sinner, for it will only make you stronger. Promise me, George,” Dream was begging now, “promise me that you’ll accept who you are.”_

_George looked down at the rose in his hand, then back up at Dream. He took in the sight of the masked man, the smile shining menacingly in the cool light of the moon. George smiled a_ real _smile and nodded eagerly._

_“I promise,” he relented, and Dream visibly relaxed. “I promise that I’ll accept myself, even the monster within.”_

_“_ Especially _the monster,” Dream emphasized, licking his lips. “He’ll make you stronger.”_

_Dream then brought George into a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around him. George let himself melt into the feeling, his hand still clasped tightly around the rose. Clothes were removed that night, breaths were exchanged, the two of them melting into each other by the cool rush of the water._

_George clutched that rose the whole time. He clutched it firmly enough to let it crumble. The petals fell from his fingers, blood staining the grass on the ground. When they painted the world white with their love, George knew that he was happy._

_He had everything._

_He had Dream._

_That was enough._

Looking back on that moment now, George felt conflicted. At the time it had seemed like a beautiful thing, but as of now it just seemed wrong. 

Dream made him bleed.

Dream attempted to turn him into a monster.

Dream wanted to bring him down to Hell.

George never wanted to go to Hell.

George wanted Dream. He had known that much for a while, and even now he knew that he couldn’t live without him. He had to have Dream in his life in some way, shape, or form, but he needed to learn more about him.

He needed to know what his motives were.

He needed to know why he had hurt so many people.

He needed to know if letting his demons take over was the right decision.

He needed to know.

George set the rose down on the floor of his palace, staring at it for a moment longer. He felt the voice leaving him, the darkroom fading away, soon being replaced by the enchanting waters and cool breeze.

George stared out into the distance, in a daze. He closed his eyes and let his head tilt back, hair catching in the wind. A shiver racked through him, but he was not deterred. He had one goal and one goal only, and that was to meet Dream.

He would persevere. He wouldn’t take the easy way out. He would visit him in the prison tomorrow, after finding some of his broken pieces.

He was strong.

He was a rose.

He was _George_ , his own person, and he would _not_ let Dream take advantage of him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE ARE OFFICIALLY HALFWAY THERE FOLKS! OOOHHHH, LIVIN' ON A PRAYER!
> 
> Well, excuse my craziness, but I'm just so excited! I am not even halfway done with my other project, but I suppose something like this is shorter and easier for me to manage. I have been writing a new chapter every day, and I sort of feel like it is an obligation now, but it's certainly not a tedious task.
> 
> I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! Things escalated a lot here, and I had lots of fun writing about roses and other gory aspects, but y'all must have seen the warnings so I assume that it's fine. As I have stated before, I have been writing a lot of fluff recently, so it's nice to take a break and work on something more angsty.
> 
> If you guys thought that this chapter was a wild ride, make sure to fasten your seatbelts. Things are only going to escalate from here!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Astrid <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George goes to visit Dream again. Will it go good or bad?

“Back so soon?” That familiar voice asked, even before George had made his way into the cell.

George rolled his eyes, stepping off of the bridge once more. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Sam letting the lava down, the liquid that would encase the both of them in the room. They would have their privacy again, and George didn’t want to be at risk of manipulation like he had been previously.

He hoped that the time he had taken to himself had been enough time to think. He knew that it wasn’t all that much, but staying away from Dream for long periods was near impossible. He loved the man, and he had to know why he had done all the things that he had. He needed to know the truth. He needed to talk to _Dream_ , not his cold and distant persona. He figured that if he could play his card right, this time that he was taking currently might be the first time that he would meet the man beneath the surface.

When the netherite wall went down, it took all of George’s willpower to not run into Dream’s arms. He had felt so safe last time, so safe and warm, and he wished that he was able to trust Dream so that he could do it again.

Unfortunately for him, Dream was not a trustworthy man. He had proven that much through the sands of time, and George had to live with the new reality. Even if he wasn’t used to it, he had to distance himself. He couldn’t allow himself to be shattered by this man again.

“Do you want me to go?” George asked abruptly, the question hanging in the thick silence of the room. He was answering Dream’s question before, but since it had taken him so long to respond, Dream took a minute to process before speaking back to him.

“No,” Dream settled on, his attention mainly focused on the small scratches he had managed to make on the obsidian walls. George furrowed his brow, walking over to the area where Dream was. He made sure to distance himself so that he was at least a foot away, bringing his hand forward to run his fingers over them.

He instantly recognized the pattern, letting his finger brush over nine consecutive marks. “Tallies?” He mumbled aloud, turning to look Dream in the eyes.

Dream nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Nine days,” he commented, “a little over a week. You visited me on the eighth day.”

There was a silence exchanged between the two of them, one that lingered for a long while. Neither George nor Dream seemed to know what to say, but they didn’t seem to be upset. Just basking in each other’s presence was enough to calm them down. They were so in love, or at least George hoped that they were. He didn’t know if the feelings were reciprocated.

“What have you been up to?” Dream questioned, turning around as he walked away from George. He sat down on the edge of his rickety bed, letting himself be supported by his arms. George glanced over him and immediately regretted that he did. Dream managed to look handsome when he wasn’t even trying to, nonchalantly sitting down. His hygiene was worse and there were dark bags under his eyes, but he was just as attractive as George remembered him. Why was this so hard!?

“Nothing much, now that you’re gone,” he admitted, looking down at his feet. “What do you expect me to do? My world revolves around you.” 

Dream shook his head, the movement casting a shadow across the floor of the cell. “You’re your own person, George. You can do what you’d like. Don’t use me as an excuse for your laziness.”

George grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists. He wasn’t being lazy, he was in _pain_! Did Dream not understand that he had hurt _everyone_? Even though George had not been involved in the majority of drama that Dream had with others, he had perhaps been hurt the most. He was shattered to a point that he couldn’t truly fix himself — not without Dream’s help — and he felt worthless. He _was_ worthless, or at least that’s what he thought, and he knew that was wrong, he just didn’t know how to fix it.

“No,” George hissed, looking back up at Dream. The blond stared back at him, face as apathetic as ever. There was no change in his expression or posture as George continued, beginning to get even more upset with the way that he had been treated in the past. “I’m not lazy, I’m _grieving_. I’m grieving for a man that died — a man that I don’t know was _real_ — and you happen to be the only person that I can go to that numbs my pain for a while! You’re the _one_ person that I can confide in to feel safe, but now I’m not sure if I can even _do_ that anymore! You’ve ruined me, Dream. You really have.”

Dream listened to George rant, eyes cold as he watched him. George panted when he was done letting those things off his chest, posture relaxing under the gaze of his lover. He and Dream stared at each other, nothing else being said in comfort. Then, finally, Dream pushed himself up, stalking over to George just like he had the previous day.

“You’re fighting your demons, Georgie,” he whispered, stopping less than a foot away from him. Dream let his hand settle on George’s shoulder, his head tilted down to make eye contact. George immediately shrunk back under that scrutinizing gaze, wishing that he could be out of there already. He forced himself to stay, however, keeping his mouth shut instead of calling out for Sam. He was stronger than that. He had to be.

“You’re the cause of all my demons,” George realized, the words tumbling from his lips before he could process them. “You break me and then build me up again. I don’t know what to do with myself. You’re toxic, you’re the ecstasy that I’m addicted to, and no matter how much I try to stay away, I always keep coming back.”

Dream’s grip tightened on George’s shoulder, causing the other to wince. The feeling was not painful yet, but it did feel weird; strangely uncomfortable. George couldn’t help but imagine the pain that Dream could force him to go through if he tried, the suffering that he could bestow upon him just like he had done to all his previous victims. George hoped that he wasn’t one of them.

“I help you,” Dream began, “because I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt, George. I have never gained anything from helping you. I have never gained anything from loving you. I do it because you want it, alright?”

George processed what Dream was saying, almost giving in once more. Hearing that smooth voice explain why he was helping was almost enough to cause him to fall, let down his walls, allow Dream to see that vulnerable side of him again—

But the second part of his statement was not okay. 

George might have been blinded by those sorts of words in the past, but he wouldn’t be blinded by them now. 

“You don’t love me?” He asked softly, eyes going wide at the prospect. He hated to think that way, hated to even process the possibility that Dream didn’t care about him, but he supposed that it was viable. While he didn’t know all the details, he knew that Dream had stated to Tommy that the only thing he cared about was gaining control over his discs. He didn’t care about any of the people in the SMP, he cared about power, and George might have been foolish enough to think that he was the exception to that rule.

Perhaps there were no exceptions. Perhaps Dream had always been like this, cold and manipulative, and George had never known. Perhaps Dream had always hated everyone on the server, only seeing them as pawns. 

He was always very good at chess. Now George was starting to see why.

“That’s not what I said,” Dream shook his head, not seeming fazed by the question. “I’m trying to prove a point. I care about you and I want to help you. I don’t gain anything by helping you. I’m saying that I’d do it over and over again, no matter whether or not it _did_ help me.”

His clarification didn’t make the statement any better. If Dream was simply thinking about other people in terms of a give-get relationship, it was toxic and his motives for doing things were skewed. While George didn’t know everything about what Dream wanted, he could understand that the reason why Dream acted the way that he did was not justified, and he was determined to find out more about his actual motives over time.

“Does my happiness not mean anything to you, Dream?” George asked tentatively, shuffling his feet on the floor of the cell. “You said that you don’t gain anything from helping me, but if you cared you would want me to be happy. I’m not happy. Have my feelings _ever_ mattered to you?”

Dream nodded but didn’t say another word, eyes as cold and unreadable as ever. He stared at George as if he were a bird, yet the bird wouldn’t run away. This bird was trapped, locked in a cage, and wouldn’t be able to leave without the key to the door. Dream was the key.

“George, I want you to be happy. How could you ever think that I wouldn’t want that for you?” Dream frowned, letting his other hand brush George’s. When George felt those fingers try to intertwine with his he pulled away, wrenching himself from Dream’s touch. He couldn’t be weak. Not again.

“You know very well that I’m not happy. I have never been,” George admitted, and while it felt like a weight was being lifted off his chest as he spoke he was worried for Dream’s reaction. “You know what you have done. You’ve made me unhappier in the long run. I need you to help me detach myself from the real world. It’s not healthy. It’s wrong. I shouldn’t be going to you, but I always do. Do you understand the sacrifices that I would make for you?”

Dream said nothing. George took that as his signal to continue, ignoring the shake in his hands.

“I would do anything for you, Dream. I would tear down the world for you, put myself in harm’s way, even jump in front of a fucking bullet for you! Dream, I would give up all my lives for you, yet you would never do the same for me. This is love but I’m not sure if it’s reciprocated. It’s twisted and you have me addicted to the uncertainty of things. You have me addicted to your abuse. I can’t take this any longer, but I _want_ to. That’s what hurts.”

The brunet could feel his legs give out under him, not realizing that they had been wobbling until it was already too late. He grit his teeth, hanging his head and glaring at a specific speck of dust on the ground. He didn’t want to look Dream in the eyes. He knew that those who had tried to speak up against him in the past had not been successful, and George didn’t want to be associated with that group. If Dream was a man that saw a person as either an ally or a complication, George didn’t want to become the latter. He knew that if he wasn’t loved he would rather hear it straight, but he also didn’t want Dream coming after him. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing the man that he once loved — _still_ loved — try to hurt him.

George knew that with the way that he was as of now, he would let Dream hurt him.

He would let Dream abuse him.

He would let the man tear him apart limb from limb, then precariously stitch them back together. He would let himself be used like a doll, clunky blood falling out of him like excess stuffing. He would watch himself tear and get worn, colors fading, eventually becoming a simple shell of what he once used to be.

George didn’t know if what he used to be was worth anything, but he knew that if he let Dream control him he would be nothing anyway.

The silent fear of the smaller and the muted confidence of the taller was broken when Dream brought himself to talk. 

“I was wrong about you.”

George’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He looked at Dream, admired those freckles, the pink spots on the apples of his cheeks, those chapped lips—

But the dangerous glint in his eyes reminded him of his purpose. He was not in the jail to screw around, he was there to find out answers. He needed to know Dream’s true motives. It was the only way that he could start to come to peace with himself.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Dream turned around, back facing George. “I thought you were strong. I told you to embrace every part of yourself, including the demons. Embracing your demons is a hard struggle, George. You’re going through the process of trying to embrace them now, and you’re _losing_.”

Losing. George knew what Dream meant. He was a loser.

George tried to find words to say, a mix of thoughts jumbling around in his head. He opened his mouth when he thought that he had something, but was interrupted by the very man that had told him nothing but honeyed words in their most intimate moments.

“I am a man that has embraced my demons,” Dream continued. “I am strong. I have achieved what I wanted and there is still more work to be done. I let you love me because I thought you could handle that. I thought that you were as strong as me, but look at you _now_.”

Dream whirled around, teeth bared. It was the most feral expression that George had ever seen on him— dark eyes, frazzled hair, and hands clenched into tight fists. Dream had always been soft with him. He wasn’t afraid to be rough now and again, but for the most part, he was kind and understanding. This was not the man that he knew.

“You’re doubting yourself. You’re doubting the storybook that is panning out. You’re doubting _me_. I’m here to _help_ you, George,” Dream spoke in a softer tone now, looking mildly hurt. George hated how Dream could change his aura in a split second. It was so manipulative — he knew that it was — and yet it worked every time. “Let me be your guide. Trust me to love you and get out of this place. Allow me to tell you what I truly feel and _don’t_ make it out like I am a liar.”

George let his palms settle flat against the obsidian on the floor, pushing himself up. He winced a bit at the sharp temperature change, but wiped his hands on his pants and found himself gazing into those green eyes. “Dream,” he quavered, “would you kill me?”

Dream’s eyes widened at the question. The action was rare for him, a hint to an element of surprise. George couldn’t remember the last time that he had seen Dream genuinely taken aback by something, and even now he didn’t know if it was real or not.

There was yet another silence shared between the two of them, between the once star-crossed lovers that were now slowly falling apart. George was broken, he was glass, he was locked away in a cell with no escape, but he would bring Dream down with him. Dream had done that to him, so why not return the favor? He would show Dream how he felt. He would make sure that he answered this question no matter what.

“I think you should go,” Dream stated, gesturing towards the water at the corner of the cell. 

“ _What_?” George snapped, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. In the past, it had been a blush of love, one that showed that he was truly flustered and happy when around Dream, but now it was for a different reason. Now he was upset. “No, not until you give me a straight answer.”

“George,” Dream groaned, exasperated. “ _Go_.”

“No!” George cried stubbornly, folding his arms. He saw how Dream’s expression got darker for a second but didn’t care. This man was dangerous, but George was no longer scared. He was now beginning to see his true colors, and he would not let himself back down. “Give me a yes or no answer! _Would you kill me_?”

Dream growled before letting out a resounding scream, ramming a fist into the obsidian wall. He panted, fresh blood running down his mangled hand. He stared at his fist for a moment before unclenching it, not even wincing as he turned to look back at George.

When they met eyes, George finally realized the truth.

Dream was a monster.

He had told himself that before, yes, but now he was _seeing_ it. 

This was no man, this was a power-hungry dictator, a control freak.

That was all he was.

What had ever happened to the caring knight that George once knew? What had happened to the man that he could always count on? What had happened to the man that he loved?

He never existed.

George had been thinking about that many times before, but now he knew it was true. The only man that had existed was the one that was currently in front of him, a being that he could scarcely recognize. 

“You would kill me, wouldn’t you?” George murmured, to which Dream looked away. Despite the act that he was putting on, he didn’t seem remorseful in the slightest. George hated that he was trying to convince himself that Dream was sorry, to wrap him in a hug and comfort him until they were both fine again.

He knew that they could never be fine. 

Not as long as the man that he had fallen in love with had been an illusion.

“Fine,” he said dejectedly, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I’m going then.”

As Sam shot the potion down on George and had him leave the prison cell, George noticed that Dream couldn’t look at him. 

He couldn’t even say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that this is by far the longest chapter that I have done for this fic so far! I wrote the first quarter of this chapter the day after I posted the previous one, then took a break. I must say that my break was pretty eventful, with the events of the Masquerade themed stream from Tales of the SMP and DREAM'S NEW SONG COMING OUT! His song is certainly not the best in the world but it is very good for a first song, and he has lots of potential for the future. I am excited to see where he goes in pursuit of his music career! I am a musician myself (I sing professionally and play trumpet in the band) so I have a love for it myself. I've been playing his song on loop over and over again. Dream support!
> 
> I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'm looking forward to what is next to come! I have also made my own server on top of the DDK one, so I will have both links in the note at the end of every chapter.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Astrid <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George has a conversation with Sapnap about his relationship, and wonders if the raven can give him good advice as to how to find out what he wants in his.

It had been a few days since George had visited Pandora’s Vault, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Dream’s words— or lack thereof. 

He had asked Dream if he would kill him if necessary. Dream had said nothing. He couldn’t deny it, he couldn’t look George in the eyes, and there had already been some suspicious behavior from him before. George should have seen the signs then but he didn’t, and now he was in love with a man that would have no hesitation to ruin him if he thought it would benefit him in any way. 

George had been alone for the rest of the time again, not wanting to be around anyone. He needed to take time to himself to think about things; understand that the man he knew was only an illusion. George had fallen in love with a fantasy of what he thought was his dream man, but now he knew that Dream didn’t live up to his title. He was not an angel, he was a fucking nightmare.

The former king took his time alone to look around the SMP without Dream being there. He walked around the ruins of L’Manberg, admired the various builds that had still stayed intact around the area, appreciated the new things that were being built. Tommy had recruited Sam to help him build a hotel and from the looks of things, the framework was in progress. Tubbo was dead set on making sure that the land of Snowchester and his nukes were developed in such a way that they would be successful. A group of anarchists began to form, but George didn’t want to involve himself with that. He didn’t want to be involved in any conflict. The only conflict that he wanted to be present in was his own, and he wasn’t sure how quickly or easily that would be solved.

Now George was sitting amid the remains of his house, the one that he had built in the middle of the war that consisted of Pogtopia versus Manberg. He had been so kept in the dark that he had no clue what was going on, and Dream had tried to play it off as nothing when he had told George that he would be busy that day. Dream suggested that George build a nice house for the both of them to vacation at when he was not overseeing the world, and George had obliged. If the king built a house it was sure to stand for ages, and he knew that both he and Dream would be safe.

They would rule over the land that they knew or at least the land George thought he knew. He thought that he knew the land that he was the ruler over, but he was completely wrong. The only things that he knew were the things that Dream told him. He was kept in the dark otherwise. Sometimes he wondered if he was ever truly a king. Was that moment ever real, or was it all in his head?

  
  


Nonetheless, the destroyed house was a pivotal part of history. The act that Tommy and Ranboo did in wrecking it caused there to be future conflict, which in turn helped Dream’s true colors to show. George supposed that Dream had been acting in a manipulative way towards everyone else that he knew, but he was blinded to it. He trusted the main too easily — let him take over his life and his mind for him — and in turn, he had lost the part of himself that could discern truth from a myth.

George invited himself to sit down on the end of one of the broken walls, choosing a flatter piece that would not dig into his rear end. He let his legs dangle over the side, akin to how he sat on the topmost tower of his and Dream’s oasis before. The difference was that Dream’s property had stayed intact while his had been destroyed. He was not allowed to have an oasis. He was not allowed to have anything for himself, and he wondered if Dream cared about the house or it was more about maintaining power. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

The crunching of grass under someone else’s feet caused George to look up, eyes locking with Sapnap’s. He didn’t expect anyone to be around the former house, especially at this time, and the fact that the other was his arsonist friend made it both comforting and awkward.

George had not seen Sapnap since he had abruptly left him last time. He had not seen him since he openly admitted that he would accept anything that Dream threw at him, even if it would hurt. He had not maintained the courage to face him, and to be honest he was not sure that he had it now. He supposed that there was no other choice than to face Sapnap though, as there was no better time than the present. He couldn’t ignore his friend forever, not in his time of need.

They were both suffering. They had been manipulated into thinking that Dream cared about them when in reality he didn’t. It was imperative that they were there for _each other_ and helped each other to get better. Sapnap and George came to this collective understanding as Sapnap gestured cautiously to the wall, resulting in George scooting over to give him room to sit down.

Silence seemed to be a recurring theme during times like this. There were so many things to say that they dissolved into nothing. Nothing needed to be said in drastic times, times in which there was no feasible solution to the problems plaguing people. Words of reassurance and sometimes condolences were exchanged, but nothing helped. Nothing ever did. 

Sapnap, being as brave as ever, was the one to break the silence. “How was your visit with Dream?” 

As much as George wanted to answer him, he didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t gone well, but he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He had finally seen Dream in all his truth, in a moment where he was at his lowest, but he certainly didn’t like how he behaved. Nonetheless, George supposed that he needed to know who Dream truly was, even if he didn’t like it.

When Sapnap didn’t get an answer he brought it upon himself to speak once again. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

George could shake his head to that. He gazed into Sapnap’s eyes, the raven being able to see the chocolate brown ones that he possessed himself. His goggles were not perched on his nose but they were upon his head, the red hints at the corners of his eyes proving that he had once been crying. George wasn’t worried about people knowing that he cried. Crying was normal in the land that used to be owned by a tyrant.

“He didn’t hurt me,” George rasped, voice hoarse. “Not physically. I’m safe. He can’t do anything behind bars.”

Sapnap brought his arms around George, pulling the brunet into a tight hug. He could feel the way that George shook under his touch, his whole body trembling. His shoulders were slouched and his face was slightly sticky, but the raven didn’t care. The only thing that he cared about was being there for George. That was what mattered.

“He can still hurt you, you know. Is he in your head?” 

George nodded again, causing Sapnap to sigh and press a friendly kiss to the top of his scalp. “I hear him sometimes,” George admitted, and it was the first time that he had. “Even if I don’t see him or think it’s his voice, I know that it is. He tells me that I’m everything to him. He tells me that I’m worth it. He tells me that he loves every part of me. It hurts because I _know_ it’s not true.”

Sapnap hummed, agreeing with what George was saying. “He tells me the opposite,” he admitted, staring intently at the world ahead of them. “He tells me that I’m nothing to him. He tells me that I was never worth it. He tells me that nobody could ever love me. It hurts because I _know_ it’s true.”

George’s eyes went wide, the brunet turning and shaking his head. “That’s not true, Sapnap! People care about you! They love you!”

Sapnap laughed, voice soft and unsure as he did. A single tear slipped down his cheek, causing George’s heart to break at the sight. The brunet brought his hand up and swiped his thumb through the trail, breaking it as he gazed at Sapnap. The raven focused his gaze back on George, smiling sadly down at him.

“Nobody wants to spend time with me. They refer to me as the pet killer. They use me when they need me. They don’t understand how much I care about this land and the different pieces of it. It’s all true.”

“No!” George insisted, pads of his fingers curling into the skin of Sapnap’s jaw. “They just don’t understand. Now that Dream’s gone they might. They have a chance to get to know you better, and… and you have two fiances that you plan to wed! You can’t tell me that nobody cares when they obviously do!”

Sapnap flinched at the mention of his lovers but certainly didn’t seem disgusted or uncomfortable with the topic. A light blush became present on his cheeks. He was thinking of them. George pulled his hands slowly back when he saw Sapnap begin to smile, placing them in his lap.

“My… fiances…” he whispered slowly, sighing at the thought. “They’re probably the only reason I’m still here. Them and you, of course.”

George felt that familiar frown grace his lips, the one that everyone seemed to have a variation of nowadays. “What?”

Sapnap blinked when he realized what he had said, looking back down at George. “I was suicidal for a while, Georgie. I may have acted tough, but behind the scenes, I wasn’t very strong. Quackity and Karl were the only ones that had the pleasure — or displeasure, I should say — of seeing me in that state. I don’t open myself up to a lot of people. I have a persona to play off.”

“Sapnap…” George trailed off, hands curling into fists. “I’m sorry that you felt that way. You know that you could have come to me, right? I wouldn’t have judged you, I would have—”

“No,” Sapnap interrupted him, shaking his head. “You had Dream at the time, and you also had your problems to deal with. I didn’t want you to be exposed to the other ones in the land. I didn’t want to bring you down. Granted, I didn’t want to bring anyone down, but especially not you. I care about you, Georgie.”

George opened his mouth to argue but determined that now was not the time. The past was the past, and while he had to conquer it to look forward, he assumed that Sapnap was no longer suicidal. He still wanted to be there for his friend when he needed him, but what was done was done. There was no changing how things had panned out. Instead, George brought himself to ask a different question, one that he hoped would bring Sapnap up. “How did Quackity and Karl help you?”

Sapnap giggled, a sound that was much lighter than the one he had produced before. “The two of them are angels, I tell you,” he beamed, his smile being brighter than the fires he often liked to produce. “They may be chaotic jokesters in public but they can get serious when need be. Karl has this immense understanding of the world, almost as if he had been through it multiple times, and Quackity has logical solutions to various problems— he’s so smart! The two of them are just… they’re really special.”

George smiled softly, happy that Sapnap had people that he loved and that loved him back. He had to admit that he was a bit jealous that Dream couldn’t be like that but now was not about him. He wanted to cheer Sapnap up, as he knew that the raven had come and sat down so that he could do the same to him.

“S-Sapnap…?” He stuttered, an idea suddenly coming to mind. Sapnap seemed to notice George’s change in attitude, his smile fading as he gestured with his hand for the brunet to continue. “What parts of your relationship are you happy with… and why? What makes you being with Quackity and Karl so amazing? Why is your love valid while mine… mine was not?”

Sapnap sighed, pulling George into his chest once more. The brunet hadn’t even realized that he was crying again, but he silently thanked Sapnap for being such a good friend and treating him with the utmost kindness during his most vulnerable times. “It’s not that your love isn’t valid,” he mumbled, “it’s that it was wasted. You shouldn’t need to care for someone that’s not going to care for you back. There should have been signs that the both of us could have read to know Dream was a toxic person to be around, but then again, we were being manipulated. You’re not the problem.”

While that was not what George had asked, he appreciated the confirmation from Sapnap that he was valid. He still wanted to know what was so good about Sapnap’s relationship, however. He wanted to know where his went wrong. He understood that Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap were far from perfect, but they were all happy with each other, and it was not the kind that was meant to numb pain. It was the kind of happiness that radiated wherever they went, only growing over time and causing others to feel exhilarated as well. George didn’t know how they managed to be so optimistic. He wanted to know.

“What are the good things about your relationship?” He asked again, noting how Sapnap bit his lip and looked down at the grass.

“Should I go one at a time?” He asked tentatively, moving one hand off of George to scratch at the back of his neck. “There are qualities that are unique to Karl and unique to Quackity, and then there are some that they share. Even the things that they don’t share or agree on can be merged to create something beautiful, but then again, I could be biased. They are just… they make me so incredibly happy, George!”

George smiled. Just hearing Sapnap talk about his fiances in such a way was heartwarming to him. George knew that before he could have said the same sorts of things about Dream, but he didn’t know if Dream would ever return the favor. Now George was beginning to find out who Dream was, and he wasn’t sure if he could compliment Dream as he used to anymore.

“Do whatever works for you,” he hummed and leaned back on the edge of the crumbling wall as he waited for Sapnap to speak.

“Well,” Sapnap began, looking up at the sky, “I fell for Karl first. When he decided to come to the lands here and settle he was just too cute, and while shy at first, he eventually warmed up to me. He has his special talents and hobbies that he doesn’t like sharing with a lot of people, but when he does then he’s super talented. Did you know that he’s great at telling stories?”

George shook his head but gestured for Sapnap to go on.

“Oh, Karl tells the best stories,” Sapnap grinned. “He weaves stories from the past and the future, and he speaks about them so emotionally that sometimes I almost believe they are true. He also has a knack for playing the guitar and enjoys singing sometimes. He may not be the best singer, but he is not bad either, and I can’t say that I am much better.”

Sapnap laughed lightly, cheeks turning even redder as he thought about his first lover. “I knew that I was attracted to Karl, but I think that I found out how in love I was when he trusted me enough to break his boundaries. He is not someone who shows when he is upset that often, so when he let me hold him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear while he was crying… I knew that he didn’t look beautiful, but he looked _human_ , and that was enough for me. He’s very philosophical, and everyone could use a bit of humanity in their lives at this time.”

George moved his hand to settle on Sapnap’s shoulder, rubbing circles into it with his thumb. “That’s amazing,” he murmured. He knew that he and Dream had their moments, but he could have _never_ said things like that about him before. He knew that Dream was incapable of saying those things back about him.

“Quackity joined us a bit later on,” Sapnap mused. “Karl and I were together but kept our relationship under the radar. He didn’t know that I was with him at the time, but he liked me. I don’t know what he saw in me even to this day, but when I ask him about it he claims it was my confidence and personality. I suppose that I could ask for nothing better.”

“He is also good at music. Quackity has been doing it for longer than Karl, so he is better at singing and playing the guitar. He has a brilliant sense of humor and as much as he tries to joke around about things, he can get serious when need be. He was training to be a lawyer for a while — I think that he still is — so he has good methods of proving his points and knows how to calm someone down. He does it in his way, and it’s truly beautiful.”

George knew that he was smiling just from Sapnap’s recollections of his relationship. He loved how the raven was able to speak about his lovers in such depth, yet such vagueness at the same time. It was truly beautiful, and it was obvious that Sapnap had so much to say that it eventually came out as so little. Even the little things were extensive, and George wished that he and Dream could have had that.

Sapnap’s smile then faded, brow furrowing as he considered the next part of their relationship. “I tried to be there for Quackity as a friend. I didn’t tell him that I was already with Karl because I didn’t know if he would be okay with me sharing, and granted I didn’t tell Karl that I was hanging out with Quackity alone more often. Karl began to be suspicious of me and did research. He found out that I was sticking around Quackity on the same night that he decided to make a move, and although it sounds super cliche, he walked in right as he kissed me.”

There were tears in Sapnap’s eyes now, and George moved his hand up to wipe them away. Sapnap cast him a grateful glance before looking down at his lap, playing nervously with his fingers. “Real life is not like a fantasy storybook. Needless to say, Karl felt betrayed and ended up not talking to me for a few months. Quackity felt horrible but was also upset that I hadn’t told him about mine and Karl’s relationship. Needless to say, it was a hard couple months for me because I had absolutely nobody, and the two men that I had fallen in love with — yes, I had fallen for Quackity during that time frame — didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” George interjected, but Sapnap raised his hand and shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. We’re together now, and it’s kind of ironic how that happened.”

Sapnap laughed lightly, his voice cracking as he did. He looked to be in pain, but only a bit. It was natural for there to be conflicts with love— especially in situations like this. George knew that he and his soon to be husbands were fine at the moment, but he still hated seeing Sapnap in this much pain. 

“Quackity and Karl determined that they needed to be there for each other after both leaving me. They chalked me up to be some sort of jerk playboy and ended up hanging around each other more. They fell for each other in that time frame, but they both still had feelings for me,” Sapnap bit his bottom lip, his body shaking now. “I… saw them, George. I saw them be happy without me — or at least I thought they were — and it _hurt_. It hurt to see them so jubilant.”

“It must have,” George said sweetly, not knowing what else to say in response. 

“Yeah,” Sapnap brought a hand up, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “It did, but we got through it. I eventually was approached by the two of them, and we had a long talk. It was not a happy talk, mind you. We were all in terrible positions from the situation that we were in before, and we had to try and solve everything. Nothing got solved in one night, and there were a lot of arguments and hurtful words that were exchanged between us all, but we eventually decided to try a polyamorous relationship out.”

George wrapped both of his arms around Sapnap’s torso, causing the raven to smile. “Karl and Quackity were more attached to each other. They were reluctant to show as much affection to me, but they did over time, and eventually, they both warmed up. It was hard… they thought that I was at fault for everything that happened, and I would constantly get interrogated on where I had been and I would have to give them some sort of proof that I hadn’t been doing anything suspicious. I did finally get them to hear my side of the story, though, and then… then they became suspicious of each other.”

“I hated doing that, Georgie,” Sapnap grit his teeth. “As much as I hated seeing them be happier with themselves than with me, I didn’t want to break them up. Well— I never _did_ break them up, but I created hostility between them. It lasted for a long time, and I felt horrible.”

George pressed his face into the crook of Sapnap’s neck, a friendly gesture that let him know he was still there. Sapnap brought one of his hands up and tangled it in those soft brown locks, a contrast to his greasy ones. The situation with Dream had been affecting him, and he had been washing less and less. He didn’t smell bad, but he didn’t smell good either. George didn’t care though, as he knew that these were rough times. He and Sapnap had to be there for each other. It was more important now than ever before.

“We got into a big argument one night,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I thought that I had seen monsters before, but I was mistaken. George, people can become demons when they are truly mad. When they are trying to hide the pain that they are going through and do not have a set outlet that they can help themselves with, they take that anger out on others. It started with Quackity and Karl, then I got involved, and it… it wasn’t good.”

There was a pause. Even though George knew the happy outcome of the story, he still found himself worried. His heart melted a bit at the fact that Sapnap was able to weave such a good tale — similar to what Karl could do — but he also hated the fact that it was making him feel a certain way.

“We all ended up crying that night. Generally, we tried to hide it from each other, but we just got to a point where we… we didn’t care. We all had a good cry together, and as upset as we were at each other, none of us like seeing others cry. We all tried to comfort each other and had a heart to heart. It was the interaction that led to us having such a great relationship today,” Sapnap murmured, a tear slipping down his cheek. “God, as much as I hated seeing them like that, I’m glad that I did. A… deep part of us trusted each other to be accepted when we were the most vulnerable. Now I know that I can trust them to keep me safe and help me when I cry, and they know that I would do the same for them. That night helped us to remember that.”

Sapnap moved both of his hands down to grab George’s, intertwining their fingers and holding them tight. “Things got better from there, George,” he affirmed, the regular smile returning to his lips. “They went slowly, sure, but eventually we got to the point where we are today. We are all close with each other and create chaos in public, but at the end of the day, I get to have two handsome men in my arms when we go to bed. It’s quite ironic — _Quackity_ was the one that got the rings for the both of us — and got down on one knee to propose after around a year or two of dating. Karl had been shy about showing his affections in public, but Quackity was shy about showing his affections _ever_ , so to see him do that… we were both so proud!”

George was tearing up now too. He couldn’t believe how good of a storyteller Sapnap was, how animated he got when he was doing so. He saw both Karl and Quackity in him— a positive influence that only caused the raven to become one of the best people on the server. He was far from perfect, but he was _Sapnap_ , and he was a present figure that was unique enough to brighten anyone’s day. George was grateful for him and Karl and Quackity, knowing that the three men had such an unbreakable bond that would never sever again.

“Sappy…” he choked out, causing the raven’s eyes to go wide. Sapnap immediately pulled George into yet another bear hug, squeezing him tightly against his warm chest. 

“I’m sorry!” He cried out, biting his bottom lip. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I know that you’re suffering—”

“ _No_ ,” George interrupted him, pressing his face into his chest, “you didn’t hurt me. I’m just… so happy for you! Can you—” he interrupted himself, pulling back from the other so that he could look him in the eyes. “Can you tell me what I should do? How should I try and maintain a relationship with Dream?”

Sapnap stared at George, taking in the sight of him. He brushed his thumbs across George’s cheeks, wiping up the tears that were there. “Find out what you want,” he began, “and take your time in doing so. I know that you are probably clueless as to what you want right now, and you are afraid to speak out and let your voice be heard, but please do so. Honestly, at least from my experience, seeing your lovers in their worst moments are what eventually leads to having stable rules and a stable relationship. Allow yourself to question Dream. Allow yourself to assert what you want. Don’t let him manipulate you and tell him point-blank that if he cannot give you what you want and cannot learn to change, you will not be with him. Simple as that.”

George took a moment to process everything that he said, mouth agape. He then burst out laughing, causing Sapnap to frown. “What!?” He cried, sounding a mix of worried and annoyed. “Why are you laughing?”

George snorted, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he tried to calm himself down. “S-sorry, I can’t— I just—” he took a deep breath, calming down before speaking again. “I never thought I would see the day when you would give such good advice!”

Sapnap made a fake offended noise, bringing his fist forwards to punch at George’s arm. George yelped in surprise and ended up falling off the rickety ledge, landing in the soft grass. Sapnap shot up and gazed down at him, eyes wide with worry, but stopped when he saw the smile that George was sporting.

It was the most genuine smile that he had seen from him in a long time.

The two men stared at each other in silence, each taking in the features of the other, then smiled warmly. Sapnap held out his hand and George took it, allowing his friend to pull him up. “For the record,” Sapnap started, wiggling his eyebrows, “I can give _amazing_ advice, thank you.”

“Must be your lawyer boyfriend that taught you how,” George teased back, pulling away from his grip. Sapnap’s eyes flashed with mock anger, but his cheeks were pink. George had won.

The brunet glanced back towards the rest of the land, knowing that he should take some time to himself to think about things. He gestured silently towards the main city with a tilt of his head, Sapnap immediately getting the point. The raven reached for his bag, fastening it over his shoulder as he looked in the direction of where he shared a house with his lovers. “Seeya later, Gogy!” He called, waving friendly at him.

George waved back at Sapnap before turning around, walking back towards the main lights. Thoughts were bouncing through his head, but he knew that he would figure them out. He had a better idea of how to find out what he wanted now, and he would be sure to take the time to do that.

He would take Sapnap’s advice.

He would find himself.

And he would make sure that the next time he went to go see Dream, he would make his boundaries and expectations clear. 

George was the lock and Dream was the key, but he was not the only copy of it.

George could find another key.

He could create one.

He had to, for Dream’s sake and his own.

_I’m gonna do it_ , George thought to himself, watching the sunset overhead. _I’m going to find the key to loving myself again._

For the first time in a while, when the lights dimmed and the sky got dark, George didn’t feel alone. He had himself. He could be his own light. He could shine in his brilliance, a star among the black nothingness painted across the sky. He may no longer be a king of the land, but he was a king of himself. He could determine his own life and his own fate, and George wouldn’t let himself waste away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been in the works for some time, and it is by far the longest one that has been posted in this fic so far! I had way too much fun writing about Sapnap's journey through his romantic relationship and how he got to the point in which he is in currently.
> 
> The reality of life is that there are going to be challenges that people have to go through. Those challenges include people trying to find themselves, misunderstandings among others, and just trying to solve problems in general. Sometimes they get solved and sometimes they don't, and the time in which that happens can vary. I made it out like it took a long time for Sapnap to solve his problems with Karl and Quackity, and for misunderstandings and love triangles like the one that they were involved in, it makes sense that it would take a long time. They got together in the end, though, and Sapnap was able to give some nice romance advice! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I cannot believe that we are over halfway done with this fic! Only three more chapters until it's done, and then I will probably write one-shots and such until I have an idea for another multi-chaptered fic that I can commit to. Be on the lookout for that, and subscribe to my ao3 account if you want to get notifications! (I literally do not get clout from ao3 subscriptions, they are not visible, so go wild!)
> 
> Look at the links to the Discord servers in the general note and consider joining! I will talk to you guys in the comments and in the next chapter!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Astrid <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George writes a letter to Dream.

_February 1, 2021_

_Dear Dream,_

_It’s been a while, hasn’t it? It feels like forever since I saw you last. I know that it was only a few days ago — less than a week — but I’m used to being around you all the time. Nothing has been the same since you were put in prison. Nothing has been the same since you have been locked up. The world is still turning, probably better than before, and yet to me, it feels like time is standing still._

_I’ve had time to think about things, to think about_ you _. You were my whole world, the reason that I would breathe. I had no other motive to take gasping breaths of air, the ones that are often experienced after one’s head breaks the surface of an expansive ocean. The only reason why I did it was for you. I wanted to see you the next day. You numbed my pain. You were my anesthesia. I hate to admit it, but when I see you in person I get that same feeling._

_You have no idea what people are going through right now. They are not used to things being so much better. I have no idea what your motives were behind making our lives a living Hell, but you’ve broken everyone that you’ve come in contact with. I hope that you’re proud of yourself. Even when we are free of you, we aren’t. You’re still there, in the back of our minds, telling us how we should feel, what we should do. You are a presence that is constantly screaming at me, one that I can’t seem to get rid of. I try to block you out, but I am not strong enough. I want to be._

_You have told me to embrace my demons in the past. I understand who my demons are now. There are many different smaller demons, each with their own presence, but ultimately they all combine into one entity. That entity hurts. That entity is you._

_You are thousands of different voices, all jumbled together into one. You scream at me, cry at me, soothe me, and moan into my ear all at the same time. I get mixed feelings and I don’t know what to do with myself. You tell me what to do, then you tell me another thing, and yet another— I can’t do it anymore. I need to be able to think for myself. I can’t have you plaguing my thoughts._

_Every beautiful thing has its flaws. Every rose has its thorns. You taught me this when I was still young and naive, more likely to give in to what you proposed. I didn’t know better then, but I do now. I know that you were trying to control me. Even if you were not trying to, you did. You are a natural manipulator, a control freak that cannot handle anyone around him doing something different than what he expects. If anyone strays from the path, from the idea that you have of them, you help them back._

_You are a shepherd, and we are your sheep._

_What happens to the flock when their leader leaves? What do we do when the only thing that we know disappears?_

_We keep eating grass, just as we did before._

_We indulge in the things that we know. We stick to the path that was made for us. Occasionally one lamb might stray from the flock, but he gets eaten by wolves._

_There are wolves in hiding, Dream. Wolves are in the midst of the innocent sheep. You have created monsters among men, and that I can never forgive you for._

_The world is fucked, but I don’t hate you for it. I don’t hate you for causing everyone to suffer like they currently are. I don’t hate you for creating a warped version of reality, one in which they are forced to live out every single day. I don’t hate you for teaching us to trust nobody, with the various betrayals you induced and took part in. I don’t hate you for creating future enemies that we have to relinquish._

_I don’t hate you._

_I could never hate you._

_I love you._

_I love you, and even throughout all this, I still want to be with you. My brain is telling me that I want things to be like they were before, but I know that they can’t be. Even if I thought those times were good, they were not. I was being manipulated, blinded from seeing the problems that were gracing our world. I was living in my own head while you brought everyone down, making sure that nobody around you was truly self-reliant._

_They all had to go back to you at some point. That was how you maintained control. You made sure that everyone either had something against you or went to you for support. I understand now._

_Your mindset behind the things you do is fucked up. You need help, and while I’m sure that nobody else has the motivation to give it to you, I do._

_I want to help you, Dream._

_I want to help you become the man I know you can be._

_You are terrible as of now, which I will not deny, but you don’t have to continue. As long as you have the drive to become a better person and let me see the true you, you can do it. Perhaps you can be let out of prison early. Perhaps people can learn to accept you again. Perhaps they can understand who the real Dream is, a generous and kindhearted man, and give you the millionth chance that you frankly don’t deserve._

_You don’t deserve to be forgiven, Dream, but it is in your right to not be forgotten._

_I don’t want people to remember you like this. Nobody should die being thought of as a villain. You are not the best person as of now, but you are not a bad guy. You did bad actions, and yes, those actions define you, but if you change over time then those will become insignificant._

_I want them to be insignificant._

_I want you._

_The real you._

_Not this persona you put on._

_Not the man who manipulates others._

_You._

_Dream._

_I want you._

_I know the type of love that I want. I want the kind where we work all day and laugh all night, crawling into bed with our bodies sweaty and bruised. I want to be able to fall asleep in your warm arms, trusting you to be my tether to Earth. I want you to be human, to acknowledge that as much of a God as you may be, you have your flaws. I want to be able to wake up while being slotted in your chest, face in your neck, pressed against you like a matching puzzle piece. I want to be able to make love with you, whenever and wherever we want. I don’t want it to be a rushed act. I want to be able to tell you what I want, and I want you to oblige. You pretended to before, but I realize that every single time we were together in the past, we did what you wanted to do. A relationship is not like that. There have to be compromises and sacrifices made. You have to partake in things that I like just as much as I partake in the things that you like._

_There is a romantic in you that needs to be nurtured. I can tell that it has been abused in the past. I don’t know exactly what you have been through, but I know that you are always secretive about how you grew up._

_Did you ever “grow up”?_

_Did you ever have a childhood to begin with?_

_I fear that you may not have ever experienced the blessing of being a kid. You might have experienced something so traumatic that it forced you to act like an adult._

_Having a childhood can greatly affect a person._

_If you did not have one, I can understand part of the reason why you act like this._

_I don’t want you to hurt. I want you to be happy._

_Something tells me that as much as you try to convince yourself that you are, you are not. You have never been truly happy. Not even with me._

_I don’t doubt that I numb your pain just as you numb mine. You are just as reluctant to lose me as I am to lose you. The reality of the situation is that we need each other, Dream. As much as I am addicted to you, you’re just as addicted to me._

_I am your heroin and you are my ecstasy._

_We make and break each other. Our relationship is not healthy, but it has the capability to be. I want to learn to love you as you deserve. I want you to love me as I deserve. I talked to Sapnap about his relationship the other day. He is willing to help us with ours._

_I still need some time before I come to see you. I will visit on Valentine’s Day. Until then, you have a visit to look forward to, and a letter from me to read. I don’t doubt that Sam read this over before giving it to you, but I don’t see any reason why he should be suspicious._

_There are no codes, no hidden messages, no cues that you have to pick up on. This is me in all my entirety._

_This is GeorgeNotFound, and as ironic as it is, I would like to find myself. I want to find myself with you._

_I love you, Dream. I hope that we can work things out. Please have an open mind when I come to see you on the fourteenth._

_Until then, stay safe._

_Don’t be a dick._

_I love you._

_G._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are steadily approaching the end of this fic! I took a break from it to write a crackfic oneshot and then pumped this out in an hour during my break with school.
> 
> I knew the general plot for this chapter, but I didn't know how I wanted to go about writing it. I think that having George vent his feelings in the format of a letter was the best decision. I was reading another fanfic to get ideas, and it came to me. I read the rest of that chapter like Usain Bolt so that I could get to work on this!
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you all liked it! Please consider joining the Discord servers linked in the general note. We would love to have you there, especially in my new one, Astrid's Universe! Come say hi, we don't bite!
> 
> Alright, it is time for my regular outro!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Astrid
> 
> P.S. Buckle up because the last two chapters are going to be a doozy!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George meet up again after Dream receives his letter. This is it.

It was familiar.

George was back in Dream’s cell, this time with flowers, holding them tightly in his hand. Sam didn’t understand why Dream deserved to have them, but George insisted that he should. As much as Sam was not comfortable with giving Dream more gifts (especially after the clock fiasco), he determined that George was not causing any harm, and allowed the other to bring them into the cell.

Sam considered himself to be a father to George. He was the one who had housed him before, right when he was first starting to figure out how terrible Dream was. He had given him a room in his base, making sure that he had everything that he needed. He was given clothes and armor, was fed substantially, allowed to do whatever he wanted to decorate the place, and able to use the various machines that Sam had installed for himself. He had gotten to know George in that time frame, and since he had a positive bias towards him, that was part of the reason why he could make exceptions.

Unfortunately for Sam, he was not in the cell with the two boys. He hoped that they were okay, but he knew that he couldn’t show weakness. All he could do was trust George to handle himself. He had taken some time before coming to see Dream again, and he hoped that it was enough.

Dream had accepted the flowers. He noticed that they were not roses, not the kind of flowers that he liked. They were orchids, baby blue ones that he could see in all their vibrance. George had always taken a liking to the color blue.

“Thank you,” he said politely, just as apathetic as ever. George smiled at him in response, nodding before taking a step back to distance himself from Dream.

“Did you get my letter?” He asked, shuffling his feet below him.

Dream stared at George for a long time, eyes cold, gaze unwavering. “Yes,” he confirmed, nodding once. “I read it just a few days ago.”

George felt himself pale at that, not knowing what else to say. “Um…” he coughed, bringing himself to speak. “What did you think?”

Dream sighed, tilting his head down to look at the flowers. He picked one out of the bouquet, bringing it up to his nose to take a sniff. He didn’t understand why, but he felt the smell of freshly cut lemons. He wasn’t opposed to it, but these flowers smelling that way was rare.

“I want to change,” he sighed, returning his gaze to George. George’s eyes lit up, but he forced himself to stay collected, maintaining the serious expression that he had before.

“Okay,” he began, looking Dream up and down. “Why?”

“Why?” Dream repeated.

“Why,” George confirmed, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “Why do you want to change? I don’t want you to do it because you want to please me, I want you to do it because you want to better yourself.”

Dream was silent. He stared at George, then back down at the flowers. If George were in the shoes of the man that he used to be, the one that he was about a month ago, he would be cowering in fear. Unfortunately for Dream, George had changed.

He would not let himself be pushed around.

If Dream did not want help, that was his loss. While George might not completely believe it, he knew that he had his worth. He and Sapnap had been talking and he had realized that during his time away from the prison. He knew that he deserved a good life, deserved to be alive, but he didn’t know why. Nonetheless, he knew that he was a living being and that he would find himself over time. It was okay to not understand everything at once. He hoped that he could go through the journey of finding his identity with Dream.

Dream took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His hands were shaking, bouquet moving around between them until eventually, the flowers fell to the bottom of the cell. He was scared, scared or anxious, and the sight was one that George had never seen before. His heart told him that he should reach out, try and comfort the blond, but he held back. 

He knew when to let his heart speak for his mind and his mind speak for his heart.

Now was a time in which he would do the latter.

George stood his ground as Dream opened his mouth, mumbling out a few rushed words. George didn’t catch them, but he supposed that his silence would cause Dream to understand that. It did, and Dream looked back up at him, repeating himself slowly.

“I think about the things that I did to you,” he whispered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I think about the things that I did to _everyone_. They were not good things. I hurt you. I hurt the server. I— I wanted you all to be brought together, to be one big happy family, but the trauma that I gave you… that will never go away.”

George nodded, agreeing with what he was saying. “Yeah, you fucked up. You tampered with the minds of everyone. We don’t know reality from fiction anymore.”

Dream could say nothing to that, but he didn’t want to stop speaking. He seemed to want George to know how he was truly feeling. Perhaps that letter had worked after all! George had spilled every word with his pen, writing and rewriting, speaking straight from the heart. If that letter had encouraged Dream to allow the real part of himself to shine through, George was satisfied.

“All I do here is think. There is nothing else to do. I think about what I have done in the past. I think about how it affected you and how it currently affects me. I think about how terrible of a person I was, and as much as I hate to admit it, still am,” Dream admitted, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. George immediately pulled the blond into a tight hug, surprised when Dream buried his face into his shoulder and returned the gesture.

He was vulnerable.

He was real.

George had done it.

Dream wanted to change!

“I don’t want to be that person,” Dream choked out, fingers curling into the fabric of George’s shirt. “I don’t want to hurt others. I don’t want to make them cry. I just thought… I thought that you would all find a way to relinquish me. I thought that this outcome would make things better. I thought that this would end the story I was trying to write, but I suppose it didn’t.”

George rubbed Dream’s back, moving the other hand up to tangle gently in his hair. “You want to change for yourself. You want to change for everyone else. You want to change for me. You want all three of those things at the same time, and I can accept that,” he soothed, heart breaking at the cries of the man that he loved. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Dream repeated, holding George tight. “I’m okay. Thank you, George. I’m okay because of _you_.”

This was what George had wanted all along.

He had known that Dream could be a kind man, one that cared about others around him, but he didn’t know if he would be able to bring that side of him out. Luckily for him, it looked like he had succeeded. Dream was being vulnerable in front of him for the first time, and he _wanted_ help. The letter had helped him to realize that.

“I’m proud of you, Dreamie,” George confessed, moving his hands down to intertwine with the blond’s. Dream pulled away from the hug, looking down at him with wide eyes. “I’m proud of you for finding the flaws in yourself. Now you can change. Over time your sins will be forgotten, and your virtues will shine through. You will finally be the image of yourself that I know you can be.”

Tears continued to slip down Dream’s cheeks, George moving his hand up to wipe them away. “Thank you,” he mumbled, voice soft and barely audible. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Georgie.”

George said nothing else, simply leading Dream to the small bed that was in the corner of the room. Dream watched him with curiosity as George let himself lay back, wrapping his arms around the blond to pull him down.

Dream yelped as he landed on top of the other, eyes wide. He pushed himself up with his arms on either side of George’s head, gazing into those chocolate brown eyes that he had fallen in love with. “George…?” He asked, trailing off in confusion.

“I missed you,” George purred, wrapping his legs around Dream’s hips. “I missed making love with you. I want to do it again, but I want it to be different this time. I want you to take into account my wants as well as yours. A relationship is a two-way street.”

Dream bit his bottom lip, eyes roving up and down George’s body. They flicked down to his already straining pants, lingering on the enticing sight, then returned to those chocolate brown orbs. “Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly, not wanting to hurt George anymore. “Are you sure that you want to do this?”

“Yes,” George nodded, and he had never been so sure about something in his life. “I want this, I want _you_. Please don’t refrain me from that right any longer.”

“Fuck,” Dream shuddered, slowly letting his hands touch the sides of George’s clothed hips. Even through the fabric, George could feel the warmth, sighing happily at the familiar sensation. Dream was touching him as though he was glass, as though he would shatter at the simplest touch.

George had already been shattered, but he was fixing himself piece by piece. 

He knew that Dream wouldn’t hurt him, not in this current state.

He could completely trust him.

_This_ was love.

It was love as the two of them removed their clothing, slow and purposeful so that they could unveil the beauty of each other hidden underneath. It was love as their lips connected, creating a spark so strong that George was sure he had gotten electrocuted. It was love as Dream curled a hand around George’s length, moving it up and down without the intent of getting him off, but with the intent of worshipping the entirety of him.

When their bodies finally combined, Dream rocking into George while George pushed down against him, it was like nothing could ever tear them apart again. 

They had been separated previously by ideals, boundaries, and personas that were fake.

Dream had locked George up, confined him to the constraints of his own mind, yet finally, George was finding a way out of the cage. He had already managed to get the door loose, but now Dream was pulling it to the side.

George was free.

He was free of the cage.

He knew that he was free the moment that Dream spilled into him, their voices chorusing into a melodious chorus. 

George wanted to play it for the rest of his life. 

It was their song, reserved for them and them alone.

It was a song that spoke of a love that would outshine time, outshine galaxies, and outshine the world crumbling down around them as everything went up in flames.

When Armageddon finally began, signifying the end of the world, Dream and George would remain.

George used to be a blank canvas of nothingness. He was a starless sky, sturdy cotton without a paintbrush to match it, but now he had found his artist.

Dream.

Dream painted stars in the sky. 

Dream gave the whole world to his muse.

George was the muse.

The two of them eventually collapsed onto the bed, spent, Dream still inside of George. They gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes, bodies sweaty and brains fatigued. There was no need to think. They only needed each other.

“I love you,” Dream whispered, a prayer, a promise. He let his hand come forward to splay out across George’s chest, resting right over the place where his heart would be. It was a gesture of love, one that displayed that Dream knew George was a person. He was not just a person, but he was his own person. He was unique, he was not perfect, but what mattered was that he was improving himself. Dream was doing the same.

As Dream closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, George knew that this was it.

This was the ending that he had been hoping for.

He and Dream could finally live happily ever after.

Perhaps life could be a Disney story after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone.
> 
> There is another chapter for a reason.
> 
> Good luck.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Astrid <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream's point of view.

Dream had burnt the letter.

He had read it through the moment that Sam had given it to him, curious that he was able to receive something like that from the outside world. He had never been allowed that privilege before, so what was different about now? Dream hadn’t known until he had dug his fingers into the seal of the envelope, tearing it open to see the contents of what was inside.

Dream had read every word. He had read the letter once, twice, more times than he could count— and every time that he reread it he became angrier.

It was all true.

George spoke the truth through his words.

Dream didn’t want to see the truth.

Dream was creating his reality, one in which the world would be a better place. If he was in control of everyone else, they would all be happier. If he was able to protect them through being a villain, he would. If he would find happiness in watching himself break people and then watching them try to fix themselves again, he would make sure that he did that.

Dream knew he was better than all of them.

He was not human, he was a _god_.

This was his story, his play, his _entertainment_.

He would _not_ let that be tampered with.

He had thrown the letter into the fire, formulating a plan while he awaited George’s arrival. He knew that this was his chance to get George back on his side, as George was a powerful asset. 

When George had the motivation to, he could be a real threat. 

Dream could not afford to have any threats.

He had to convince George that he wanted to change, show him how much he loved him. Dream was a good actor, he could play the part. He had written characters of many different personalities in the past, developed his own through them, and he knew how to behave how people wanted, he just chose not to most of the time.

Dream couldn’t let himself become weak, so he formulated a plan.

He would pretend that he wanted to change for George. George was an asset that he could not lose. George was the main point of conflict for almost everything that happened, whether he realized it or not. By being involved in the littlest things and then backing out of it to let everyone else fight his battles, Dream could use him as a plot point to start more wars. He could use him to convince the others that he could change. He just had to be a good actor.

Dream also knew of other things that were happening in his land. Before he had been locked up he had come across a boy named Ranboo, one that did not like all of the conflicts that had been happening. Ranboo was right about one thing — if there were no sides, there would be harmony — and Dream couldn’t let that happen.

He gave Ranboo that win. He let him think that he was right. He planned for being imprisoned, planned to be here, but the one thing that he did not plan for was a way out. He didn’t have a definite idea in mind, but he knew that he had people he could utilize to help him out.

He had already begun possessing Ranboo. With the use of a simple smiley face, he was able to trigger an unconscious state for him, one deemed “The Enderwalk” because it was half of what he was. When Ranboo was Enderwalking, he could not remember what he had done in the past, and Dream was able to manipulate him to do things as he liked. He could use Ranboo to get him out of the prison. He could use Ranboo to help the others believe that he could be let out. He knew that he was likely putting the boy through an unnecessary amount of trauma, but he didn’t care. As long as he controlled Ranboo for the majority of the time, he wouldn’t have to suffer anyway.

There was also someone named Karl. Karl was a boy that Sapnap had fallen in love with, one that Dream was open to accepting, but he was not an idiot. He had always kept tabs on everyone that he knew — everyone that was in his domain. He wanted to be sure that nothing was going to happen that he didn’t know about. Perhaps he was a control freak, but he didn’t see why that was a bad thing. It was only human— a flaw that they wouldn’t understand, but he saw it as part of the flaws that came with the species as a whole.

Through spying on Karl and finding out what he had been up to, Dream had discovered that he could travel through time. There was a being that was a doppelganger of him, someone named DreamXD, a creature that called itself the ultimate protector of time and the lands throughout it. The being helped Karl to travel through the past and into the future, showing him the events and outcomes of what the world was and could be. The goal was for Karl to try and change history, making sure that the ending was “happy” for all his friends around him, but sometimes those endings were not ideal for Dream.

Dream had traveled with Karl. He had managed to find a way of possessing the bodies of other people during the time in which he traveled, not being able to change what the characters were doing, but able to see the world through their eyes. He saw Karl go through different timelines, ultimately try to be the mediator in things, fall in love with different versions of Sapnap and Quackity all over again, and yet… 

Perhaps he didn’t have to do anything.

He had found out that Karl lost his memory each time he traveled to a new place. The colors of his hoodie had been steadily changing, signifying that he was beginning to relinquish pieces of himself, and if those events were to continue, he would eventually not remember who he was or who the people around him were.

Perhaps Dream didn’t have to directly get involved. Perhaps he could lead Karl away from the path that DreamXD wanted him to follow.

He had found a way into the place called The Inbetween. He had left secret books that were hidden in corners of various walls, ones that he knew different versions of Karl would find and read. Unfortunately, DreamXD seemed to know of his presence in trying to alter the timeline, and only added more books and warnings to try and keep Karl where he was meant to be.

As it was described, Karl could either find more of himself as he traversed the castle or lose himself. It was one of the other — there was no compromise — and Dream was determined to get his way.

He would maintain an eye on Karl, though he was not able to travel to The Inbetween while in the prison. There must have been some sort of magical protection that someone had managed to put in place, but he didn’t know who. He didn’t think that Sam could do it, so who could be the one that was trying to sabotage him? Dream didn’t know, but he knew that with Ranboo’s help and through manipulating the people around him, he could ultimately get his way.

He remembered then that Tommy was supposed to visit soon enough, a visit that was supposed to be his last. 

Dream knew that he couldn’t let it be the last time.

He had originally thought that Tommy and Tubbo were dangerous, but now he realized that it was just Tommy. Tommy was the one that was actively against him, trying to convince others to stand up for what was “right”.

Dream knew “right” from “wrong”. Tommy trying to cause conflict was “wrong”. Everything had been perfect before he had come to live in _Dream’s_ land.

Tubbo had been content with making agreements. He had negotiated terms when Dream when Dream thought it was necessary to. While Dream was not happy with having the country of L’Manberg be a thing at the time of Tubbo’s “presidency”, he was happy to play with the game so that he could get what he wanted. He had originally thought that he had to be the obvious villain again, but Tubbo had been negotiable and had even been the one to put Tommy in exile.

Tubbo was weak, but Tommy was strong. They were opposites, and they say that opposites attract. The friendship between the two boys was a perfect example of that.

Dream was fine with seeing how they drifted apart; Tommy with his own goals and Tubbo finding solace from being alone in the form of Ranboo. That was fine. Pair the weak men with each other and keep the strong one alone.

No one man could make a difference. Not against Dream.

Dream knew that he had to get Tommy in this God-forsaken prison. He had to get Tommy in there with him. Not only was Tommy powerful, but he was the _peak_ entertainment, the unwilling star of Dream’s show. Dream would make sure that Tommy was broken again. He would make sure that he was put under control. There was no other option.

All of his plans would go to waste, however, if he didn’t convince George he could change. 

Dream did love George.

He didn’t want to lose him.

He was addicted, George had been right. He had to keep the brunet in his life, the silver moon that contrasted with the bright yellow blaze of his sun. They both had different personalities, different purposes, yet they fit together so well. 

Dream couldn’t lose that.

He couldn’t lose the one person that had cared about him since the beginning.

He didn’t care what anyone else thought, not even Sapnap. As long as they gave him some sort of attention, he didn’t care whether it was bad or good.

With George, however, it was different.

Dream felt good being around him. Dream felt like he could do anything. Dream was the luckiest man whenever he would look into those chocolate brown eyes, the warm ones that held all the love in the world for him. It had secretly broken his heart when he saw how George had behaved towards him, hostile and not wanting to be around him.

He had finally begun to see the world for what it was.

Dream couldn’t let that happen.

He would lull George into a false sense of security, let him know that he wanted to become a better person. Dream already knew that he was perfect — Gods had to be — but George was now having his doubts.

Dream would remind him.

Dream loved him.

Dream wouldn’t let George fall victim to the people around him.

He would keep him in the dark, keep him uneducated.

He had always liked him better that way.

George was the lock, and Dream was the key.

Dream had the key, and he knew how to open the bolt.

Dream would help George to love himself again, but it would only be an illusion. He could see the world as it was for the time being, but the moment he was out of the prison, he would return things to just how they were before.

Dream loved George.

He wouldn’t lose him.

Everyone that mattered deserved to smile.

He and George were everyone.

So the moment that George arrived, bouquet in hand, Dream let himself come into his radiance. 

He was the sun. 

He beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH, WE HAVE REACHED THE END OF THIS FIC! THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU THAT HAVE FOLLOWED ME ON THIS JOURNEY!
> 
> There was always going to be a bad ending to this. I am a sucker for stories that don't give the reader the satisfaction of knowing that the characters are going to live happily ever after, although I do love seeing that fluff in other fics (you can see it in some of my one-shots)!
> 
> If I am being honest, it makes me kind of sad to see that I am ending this fic. The entirety of this was written in about a month, which is an achievement for me. As someone who has trouble finishing a lot of projects because she bites off more than what she can chew, I'm glad we made it to the end of this one.
> 
> I might take a short break from multi-chaptered fics at the moment, but that does not mean that I won't be posting short one-shots or other stories that come to mind! I have also started thinking about possible stories to write that are longer to tell, and I already have a few ideas in mind.
> 
> How would you guys like to read through the story of Romans and Greeks at war? Perhaps there is a prisoner of war that is captured or there are some gay themes. There would also be some REAL smut in there, not just the implied stuff. I have written real smut before, but this story seemed like it was more about angst and manipulation, so I didn't have the particular interest to write the sexy in vivid detail. 
> 
> But yeah, expect something with perhaps a Roman concubine sleeping with another man! My friends and I have done some research into the topic because it was interesting to us, and we found out a few points that were surprising. Romans weren't homophobic per se, but they had very strict rules about the dominant/submissive roles of relationships and how people were looked at based upon that.
> 
> There could also be a fic that I have had in the works coming out that is about a murderous Dream and a poor George that gets roped into his shenanigans, and I am discussing a fic that would be centered around the ship Dreamnoblade with one of my close friends. I have no idea if or when that will come out, but might as well be as transparent as possible with what I am planning!
> 
> Thank you all so much for coming with me on this journey. I'm proud of what I have managed to accomplish here and what we as a community have come together to love: Minecraft YouTubers!
> 
> I will do my regular outro now!
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading, and stay safe! COVID is still at large!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Astrid <3
> 
> P.S. PLEASE check out the Discord links in the general note. I would love to see you on my server and get inspiration from your wonderful ideas! You have read this fic, so your brain cells are already my property. You must not have read the fine print, so why not make my job easier and join? You know you want to!

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider joining the Dead Dove Kingdom (DDK) Discord! It is run by another author (Whoreofaneboy) and I, and it is basically a community where people come together and discuss common interests. We are very accepting, and we don't bite! Come say hi! The link is [here](https://discord.gg/BeP7a29Z3T).
> 
> You can also join my personal Discord! It is called Astrid's Universe and is new, but we want to try and make a nice community! The link to my personal Discord is [here](https://discord.gg/3WxPJSVfEQ).


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